Prometheus
by MissMary
Summary: When Optimus caught Sam, he died anyway, and Optimus put the Cube in his spark. Megatron took the remnants and has enslaved the human race, crushing all resistance and hunting down any free humans found until none were left. Then a familiar face appears..
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Warning! For those of you who read my 'Download" story arc, this is nothing like that arc and does not proceed from it! This is an alternate universe story, for one thing, and for another, it is DARK ! There is going to be sex and violence, though neither will be explicit.

I do not own Transformers; Hasbro got there first.

The background of the story comes from "Unexpected Love" ; that fanfic is by Mrs. Bumblebee and her friend Jason, and is, alas, currently on hold. I have tried not to use their story line in the hope that they will finish that fic at some point in time. I use this background with their kind permission.

**Prometheus**

Chapter one

"What are you trying to do, give me trouble? I have no missing slaves! Every one of them is accounted for! " The agitated royal blue and black Decepticon waved the datapad. "If there's a slave in the woods, he's not one of mine!"

Lord Megatron looked up from the datapad he was examining. A new set of slave was in to work at the energon plant, and he reviewed the slaves working anywhere near him. Now it was more out of habit now than anything else. He wanted to know what belonged and what did not, here in his central area. Slave equaled human. No human on this planet would dare even look at Lord Megatron now; they knew their place or they were forcibly reminded of it. Slaves worked the factories, the mines, the farms and the other boring work, supervised at all times by their masters. They lived only to serve.

Slaves did not work in the central buildings; it was one of the few places drones did the work. There was no good metal for drones here; they had mined the nearest asteroids, but what good quality metal they could find needed to be used for their own repairs, poor as those were. He had no decent healer, and the order was out, and had been, that any medic was to be captured, not killed. Hook could do some repairs but he hated doing it and no one would go to him unless desperate. The shard was strong enough to renew most of them, but some it would not and its use had to be conserved.

The human slaves were bred, born, worked and died in the slave sectors. At one time, when the resistance still existed, they managed to plant one of their own in with the slaves, and that fragger did an amazing amount of damage to the administration of the planet until they tracked down the problem. He died just before they caught him, by his own hand.

It had been almost a vorn since the last resistance fighter was killed, and what humans were left free were hunted down. To Megatron's certain knowledge, it had been more than a generation of the humans since a true feral human was seen. Nowadays, a "feral human' was often as not an abandoned slave who was terrified and half-dead from exposure. Even those were rare. Megatron did not look kindly on wasting workers. Humans did not live long and they did not breed well, so even flawed slaves had a use somewhere.

The current cream of the crop stood in front of him now. He could see from here that they were all young, strong, healthy boys. All of them were had the tan skin common in this area, with black or brown hair and light eyes of various shades. All wore the collars that kept them under control in groups. Individuals were dealt with through other punishments, usually a switch or whip, depending on the area and the slaves. They were dressed in thick rough dark blue outfits, the uniform for this area, and all of them had their gaze on the ground and their hands at their sides, like well-trained slaves. Slaves did not want to be noticed. A noticed slave was often one in pain.

Females worked in specialized areas, in jobs that allowed them to carry. All breeding was strictly regulated, but a lot of females died carrying.

"Send them away," the Lord Protector of the All-Spark said, handing back the datapad and striding over to the patrol. The slave trainer herded his crop back into the building, with their willing cooperation. Fuss meant punishment, and they wanted to be elsewhere when that started. The shouter was the head of the facility. "What's going on here?" Megatron asked, annoyed at being interupted.

"This patrol is demanding to look for their nonexistent woods human here. None of my slaves is missing. It is a waste of time and would disrupt the routine. I have no intention of getting behind in my production for such stupidity!"

Megatron turned to the patrol leader. "Kickback saw him, but he managed to get away," the leader insisted. "And there's proof that a human's been in the woods. We found animal traps, and I know I smelled smoke not too long ago."

"What did you see, Kickback?" Megatron asked, restraining his own rising anticipation. He had not hunted a human for years. A real feral human was one of the best kinds of challenge. A real wild human needed to be hunted down. Megatron and the ones with him during the war and the early days of the resistance knew that humans could be dangerous, and the stupid Autobots had taken some humans with them. If so, any seen wild could be spies.

No one wanted the slaves to get ideas.

"I know a human when I see one," Kickback said, glowering at the facility manager. "It was a young male, like the ones here. He had on green and brown clothes and had white hair. I got one good look before he got into the woods. I couldn't scan him in there. He crossed a herd of deer and I lost him on the scan, and none of us picked him back up. "

"We covered every inch of ground he could have reached," the leader confirmed. "That's why we came here, to see if it was one of these."

"White hair," Megatron said slowly. He had not seen a white-haired human in more than a century. Humans were interbred so much that in this area there were no racial types left, though they existed in other parts of the world, and no human lived long enough to get white hair anymore.

"White hair is a sign of age in a human," the facility manager scoffed. "My slaves are young. White hair here would stand out like a beacon. "

"You," Megatron pointed to one of the patrol at random, "go with you," he pointed to the manager, "and make certain that this feral slave is not hiding on the grounds or is one of the slaves. That way disruption is minimized and we know for certain that this slave is not here. Understood? "They did. "If you find the slave, contract your leader. In the meantime, I want to see what you found."

Some time later Megatron was looking at the traps. "This is not a slave-raised human," he said flatly. The trap was well-made, and if Kickback had not shown it to him, he would not have seen it. The patrol leader outlined the area they had searched, which was well over what a human could have run in that time period.

Megatron looked over the terrain, and nodded to himself. It was bad terrain to search. This batch of woods led into a mountainous area, where it would be hard to find a single human without a great deal of effort. They had to cut him off quickly. The human had three choices- to find his hiding place, wherever it was, and lay low in the hope that they would go away, to go to his hiding place, gather a small amount of necessities and head out, or head out without anything but what he had on him at the moment. If he had run, more than likely the patrol would have detected him.

"He's gone to ground," he said, excitement running through him. Yes, this was a challenge. "He must have found some hiding place that we can't easily detect, or you would have seen something. He's hidden from us before, if he knows some tricks like hiding from a scan by using other organics." He stood. "I want another patrol called in to run a perimeter, on the chance he got past one of you. Your group will hunt with me." The patrol was delighted. "He's to be taken alive and in condition to be questioned. Do not allow him to off-line himself. "That startled the patrol leader, though he passed on the order. Evidently the leader was a late arrival, after the human resistance was crushed. Humans in the resistance always committed suicide before being taken.

As he headed out, Megatron felt more active than he had in some time. Boredom was a condition he thought he would never again fall prey to, not when the war on Cybertron went on and on the way he never thought it would. Optimus had been a damned good leader, to be able to go from an administrative position to the battle leader so fast.

He remembered his 'brother's' death. How he caught the boy holding the Cube, but too late. He remembered that brave young man. Terrified, running, with the chance of getting rid of his burden falling in flaming pieces to the ground, he still ran, still got as far away as he could from the giant that dwarfed him, without even a weapon to defend himself with. Megatron smiled in internal amusement as he remembered his offer to make the boy his pet if he would give up the Cube, and how the boy shouted his defiance back.

Then, done playing games with the inferior being, he knocked down the art form the boy was so precariously perched on, and the boy fell, the Cube still in his arms, and landed on Optimus' outstretched hand. That might have saved him, but that he hit with his head first. Megatron heard the wet 'crack' of his skull, saw the green eyes begin to glaze with death, before Optimus was gone.

On the ground Megatron found them, the boy and the remnants of the Cube overlying Optimus' chest. His brother's spark was gone. The Decepticon leader took the shard and left to regroup, unwilling to fight further. The Prime won a Pyrrhic victory. Optimus was his brother, as close as anyone got to him at one time, and in a way he mourned the boy. There were so few who were brave enough to stand up to him, and that one died in the beginning of his life. The Lord Protector would have followed through on his offer to the boy if he had lived- willing or not. It would have been a pleasant challenge to tame him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the memory, the leader of the Decepticons began to direct the search.

The human in question was well aware the patrol spotted him and was feverishly packing and cursing in his thoughts. The old underground base was one built as the third and fourth waves of Decepticons fell to Earth, as the resistance frantically built places to hide. This one missed being destroyed by Decepticons or gutted by humans because it was abandoned early, too close to what became the main base of Megatron.

He found it some time ago, while he was still dazed by his new surroundings and freezing, in the middle of winter. He did not know what angel was looking after him. It had food, clothes, fuel and everything he needed to get by until spring arrived and he could begin to explore and gather his needs on his own. He found books, and writing paper, and all he needed to get his head together. That had helped him bring things into perspective, though he had to admit that he still did not know what was going on with him.

He did not know how he got here; without this base, he had no doubt he would be in a slave camp now. He looked young enough that if found in the woods then, the robots would believe he was dumped by some owner who was tired of dealing with a flawed slave. It would not be the first time such a thing happened, though it was frowned on.

But he ran across a patrol, and as bad luck would have it, one of them saw him. Worse luck, he was checking his trap. If they found that, and more than likely they had, they would know he was no abandoned slave. Slaves, even the brightest of them, would never think to make a trap to catch food. They were deliberately kept totally dependent on the robots. Humans born slaves were kept ignorant of everything but their jobs. They were domestic animals, not the strong independent species they had been.

This was why the robots would hunt him down the way humans used to hunt down rabid animals. He had to get out; the base was not found before because no one was looking for it; now they were. If they followed the pattern they normally followed, they would try to take him alive, instead of just blowing this place to hell and gone.

He looked over the old canvas bundle and checked his pockets. He had very basic materials here: something to make a fire with, food, some other survival stuff. He had to be able to run; this should be light enough. He might have simply made a run for the mountains, except he knew of an old mine complex was nearby, and he knew it came out almost at the mountains. If he could make it that far, he could hide. That was really rough territory for the robots. He would be living hand to mouth until he found another safe spot, but that was better than being caught.

The last thing he checked into his pocket-it was amazing how many pockets the old military uniforms used to have in them- was the poison mushrooms he picked up a while back. That was better than being caught alive. He tied the bundle around his waist in a knot that could be untied on the run, and headed to the hopefully still hidden door.

They found the hiding place. Unfortunately, the human was not there.

Megatron looked at the place. It was built for the purpose of hiding humans from his kind. He remembered seeing others like this one. It worked simply by fooling the eye and scans. If you were not looking for this place, you would not find it, but he knew what to look for.

However, it was made for humans, which meant that he did not have very many soldiers who could get into it. They could not scan it to find a human because it was built of materials that fooled scanners. Finally he contacted Soundwave for his cassettes. Ravage and Frenzy were able to fit in. They found signs that the base was hastily abandoned. Megatron told them to find a back door and look for a scent or any kind of tracks.

"Section this area," he sent the data burst out to everyone in the hunt, and assigned sections at random." Run overlapping scans. Try for a scent." He transformed and flew over the area, but the woods were too thick. A quick scan found nothing. The humans chose this area for a reason. Scans were confused by other organic animals.

Leaving Frenzy to find the hidden door, Ravage came out and tried to find a scent. What he found instead destroyed his ability for some time. Soundwave contacted Megatron with that news. "The human left behind a trap," the communication specialist informed his leader. "It is the essence of a particularly strong smelling animal, and Ravage will not detect anything else for some time."

"We have a clever one," Megatron mused.

"Dangerous," Soundwave said bluntly. "I would advise you to kill him, Master."

"Corpses are very difficult to interrogate," Megatron informed him, and Soundwave wisely said no more.

Six hours later, there was still no sign of the human in the woods. Frenzy found the back door, which was near the scent bomb Ravage triggered. Buzzsaw, Lazorbeak and Ratbat appeared at that time, and began to search from the sky as Frenzy and Ravage did the ground. As evening fell, the ground cassettes come across a screening of vines. Curious, Ravage pulled at them in passing. They moved easily. Ratbat landed, and the three of them explored until they uncovered the opening of a mine shaft, partially covered by rock, but with room for a thin human to crawl through. Ravage began to claw at the loose rock covering. When possible, Ratbat went through. The others stayed to open the shaft further.

Once inside, Ratbat found that the shaft was large enough to fly in, and began to hunt. To his dismay, there were several branching shafts. He headed down the main one until it once again branched. It could find nothing to tell him which way the human went, or if he came in at all. Going back out, he met the other cassettes and contacted their master, who contacted Megatron with the news.

Megatron left the search to the patrol leader and got information on the mine.

The human crawled into the opening of the mine and reached into a pocket, producing a flashlight that needed to be shaken to work and the means to make and light a torch. He used the flashlight until he estimated he had walked a mile. Then the automatic lights began to work. The robots planned this mine, and they built to last. The lights worked just fine.

He worked here, some time ago. His lips compressed. Those were not good memories. He escaped through a natural cave opening he came across by accident.

He remembered the sound and the feel of the whip far too well. If there was any other way out- but there was not. How many lifetimes ago was that? He started to count as he walked, but had to put that aside to figure out where he was. The mine stretched for miles, and he needed to find the cave opening. To his knowledge, that opening was not discovered when the mine was buried in an avalanche and abandoned. It was a risk he had to take; he had to assume that the known openings would be covered.

Few of the robots could get in here. He kept moving, anyway. He would be safer in the mountains, where he could try to hole up in a cavern or cave and hope to get through the winter somehow. He pushed the thought away. That was later. He put together a torch and consulted the map in his head. It was amazing, how he remembered absolutely everything now. He kept going. He could rest later, when he was surer of being safe.

By the time the darkness set in, they had searched every inch of the possible area the human could have reached again. "Set up a perimeter," Megatron ordered. He had the map of the mines now, and a list of soldiers that could get in. Ravage, Frenzy, and Ratbat were to search from here, going down every shaft until it ended. Others would go from different entrances, once they were opened or found.

The human walked on, keeping a steady pace. There was a lot of debris, so he did not try to run or even rush. He ate at some point, voided in a way that would hide the smell. He smiled when he remembered leaving the scent bomb. At least he got something out of the damned skunk that ruined one of his traps. He drank whenever he came across water. That was frequent, here.

The night wore on, and daylight came again, and there was still no sign of the human. Ravage's scent was improving, but he still found nothing. They searched the honeycomb of shafts patiently, one after the other. Ratbat took one side as Ravage and Frenzy took the other, able to fly in most of the shafts. Then he called them. He saw a light ahead; something must be there.

The human came across the kind of problem he did not expect, and should have. Part of the shaft had shifted, causing about a fifteen-foot gap. He had rope, but nothing he would trust his own weight to. He looked down. He could not see the bottom, and the sides were steep. Then he noted that there was a ledge going around the edge, all the way to the other side. He slid onto it. He did not like heights-it reminded him too much of how his first lifetime ended- but he began to move along the ledge slowly and carefully. He was about fifteen feet from the start when he heard something, and froze.

Ratbat saw the gap from a fair distance and landed to walk up to it. No question of the human jumping it, it was too wide. He looked down. Nope, he had not climbed down, either. There was no light down there. Ratbat considered the possibility of the human falling and dying. But sound echoed here; would they not have heard the human scream, at least? He sent a data burst to his fellow cassettes, and flew over the gap to look for signs of the human on the other side. He went for a time, and saw nothing.

It was the small splash of white that caught his attention when he went over the gap on the way back. It sent him back through to check. This time he could saw the human, back against the rock wall, on a ledge only a foot or so large. The shaft was large enough that he could go in and turn, if barely.

He had not seen this robot before, but he heard of it. It was part of a group that worked with the communications expert, Soundwave, who was high in the command structure. The human was a soldier once, a leader once, and he knew when to make a hard choice fast or there would be no choice at all. He jumped.

Ravage and Frenzy heard Ratbat cursing as they approached, and broke into a run. They could see Ratbat with something clutched in his feet. It was struggling hard and managed to get free, landing hard. Immediately it scrambled to its feet and headed in the opposite direction, but Ravage was on it the next heartbeat, which was almost too late. They were at the edge of the gap. The human writhed under him, still fighting.

He never voiced a sound.

Ratbat went out first and contacted his master. Soundwave in turn contacted Megatron. "The human is found. He did try to off-line himself. Ravage and Frenzy are bringing him out. They tell they do not think he can speak. "He added a picture of the human.

The picture made Megatron pause. No, it had to be a descendant. He saw the boy die. He noted that the picture did not show the human having a collar or scars from a collar. So, this had to be a wild human. "How long before they bring him out?" Soundwave gave him a time estimate. "I will want your assistance in questioning him."

Then he went to the opening and waited. He would not have thought the boy was old enough to sire children, he mused. Perhaps this was a family line. It did not matter. One challenge was done, and now it was time for the other.

They dragged him through the hole, Frenzy and Ravage each holding an arm. The human was filthy dirty, his green and brown patterned clothes torn and just as filthy. He stood, and took in the circle of beings anywhere from three to five times his size. He stood still and waited, refusing to look at them after that quick glance. Frenzy carried a bundle in his other hand. Megatron beckoned. They pulled their prize closer.

"Did you search him?" They nodded, and Frenzy brought him the bundle. The Lord Protector opened and looked it over. There was more proof this was no former slave. No slave would know what this stuff was for, except maybe the food, and he was not certain of that. "Look at me, "Megatron commanded. The human lifted his head until his eyes met red optics, and recognition flared in the dirty face. If this was a descendant, he was a perfect replica in every way. He bent and picked the human up. He could feel the cool organic body shaking in his hand. "Samuel James Witwicky," he murmured, and saw the human react. This was no descendant. "Just how have you lived this long, and what happened to your voice?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, though I wish I did.

Thanks again to Jason Grey and Mrs. Bumblebee for the original background for this story.

Thanks also to everyone for the reviews, messages, and alerts. I hope I do not disappoint with this chapter. Note to phantom: In this universe, collars are a way to control slaves in groups or individuals as well as establish that a human is a slave and not 'wild'. Otherwise, I concede the point you make in your review.

**Prometheus **

**Chapter two**

He knows, Sam thought. He was shaking. He had no idea how Megatron knew that he was indeed Samuel James Witwicky, when he was supposed to have died in Mission City, but the Decepticon leader knew. What would he do about it?

In all the lifetimes he lived, he never came close to the Decepticon leader again. He remembered defying Megatron, and that being's amused response, "Oh, so unwise," before the stone underneath him was gone. He remembered falling and hitting something, and hearing Optimus saying something, before that memory faded. At the time, Sam believed what everyone else did, that he had not died in Optimus' hand. Optimus thrust the Cube and Sam's body into his chest, destroying most of the Cube, but Megatron was on him before the All-Spark was completely destroyed.

His mind snapped back to the present. When the cassettes hauled him from the edge of the gap, Sam refused to walk, and they dragged him. His skin stung with all the small cuts and bruises he got from that little stunt. When they thought he had the message, they stopped. They did let him stop once to get water and void. They never let go. They moved slowly enough he could walk. It was a hell of a lot easier on his skin. In other words, they were not cruel, not even Frenzy.

So, they figured out he could not talk already. Probably thought he would have screamed or begged by now. He wondered how Megatron thought his dirty prisoner was going to answer the six million questions the Decepticon leader likely wanted to ask. Somehow he thought "How the hell should I know?" would not go over very well.

But after asking the more or less rhetorical questions, Megatron simply switched Sam from one hand to another and rested that hand against his chest plates. That kept Sam held securely without hurting him. He considered trying to break free and jump. He stirred, and the hand tightened. Exhausted as he was, getting loose was not going to happen. Instead, he listened as Megatron commended the smaller 'cons that captured of him and dismissed the patrols

Sam estimated that he spent most of two days walking, between when he was checking his traps and looking for edible plants, to now. Between that, the lack of sleep and the time he spent fighting those triple damned 'cons, he was worn slam out. Just not moving was a relief. Held against the warm metal of Megatron's chest plate on one side and his hand on the other, Sam figured he might as well enjoy the rest.

Megatron issued orders for cleanup, for the contents of the human's hiding place to be cleared out and brought to him and the place set up to be destroyed. He gave orders for several subordinates to meet him in his office. He sent word to the facility to send what a human would need for several days. He made it clear that what they sent better be the best of its kind or the best they could get while better was arranged for.

The human presented him with a mystery that he was determined to solve and a challenge he intended to surmount. As Sam had not moved much, he glanced briefly down at the small cool body pressed against him. The human's eyes were closed and his chest rose steadily. Satisfied, the Lord Protector headed for his office.

Sam woke to a rumble that was a Cybertronian sound of amusement, as he was placed on some kind of metal surface. He swayed but managed to stay on his feet. Large warm metal hands turned him so that he faced the Decepticon leader he had not seen in over one hundred and fifty years, and a clawed finger pushed his chin up. Green eyes met red optics. "Your hair is white and your voice is gone," Megatron said thoughtfully, "but otherwise you are the same boy I knocked off a roof, almost two vorns ago. We have a mystery, do we not, because I saw your dead body, and yet you are in remarkable shape for a corpse."

"It cannot be the same human, master," a cold voice said from behind Sam. Megatron looked over, and Sam turned. The Decepticon had a mask over his face. Behind him Sam saw the smaller robots that had hauled him out of the mine. "Frenzy told me that he was like 'Ladiesman217' but humans do not live so long."

"I am aware of that, Soundwave, but we need to know," Megatron stated firmly. The hands that circled Sam loosely before tightened and lifted him into another set of hands. "Be gentle. I want him sane."

"As you say, my lord." The grip on him was firm but not painful. What in the devil is the Decepticon going to do, he wondered, when he felt the presence in his head. So the rumor he always scoffed at was true, that one of the Decepticons was a telepath. The questions were not so much words as communications, but he understood what was wanted. Who are you? What are you? What happened to you?

Didn't want much, did they? Sam gave Soundwave the information in a burst of thought, not logically organized and filled with the confusion he always felt when dealing with his situation. Here, Master Cold and Logical, try figuring this out, since I can't!

He was Samuel James Witwicky. At different points, he had been Sam, then Wick, then variations of his affliction names like Mute, Noisy, Quiet. The last lifetime it was White. What was he? Boy, then Autobot liaison, then supply/ acquisition for the resistance as well as fighter, then leader when there was no one else. He was a slave in the mines once, farms, factories, once a rotating clearing crew, once construction.

What happened to him? How many hours did they have? He woke up after that first death in a hospital, surrounded by beeping machines and unable to talk. No one knew why he was missed in the first sweep of the hunt for the living and he was discovered when the hunt began for bodies. His vocal cords were destroyed when he fell, they told him. His hair roots showed white not a week later. Afterwards, he had no color in his hair, though it was still thick and healthy.

When he died again, he discovered that he came back. The blackness would happen, and then he would wake up somewhere, sometimes clothed and sometimes not, back in the body of a gawky teen male, all scars gone, but with his hair still white, his voice gone, and all of his memories intact. He often wished he could forget, but never did. Considering how violent and hopeless so many of his lives were, he often wished he could find oblivion. That was denied him, as well, and he had no idea why. He was like the titan in the Greek legend who brought Mankind fire and kept getting his liver torn out, regenerated, and torn out again. When would some kind of Hercules free him?

He never knew where he would come back. In the old base, he mapped out where he woke, and realized he was always somewhere closer to here from where he died, like whatever was bringing him back had some kind of goal in mind. Too bad the damned thing could not just tell him what the hell was going on. Ironic, wasn't it, that it seemed to be as mute as he was.

Then the presence in his head was gone, leaving behind a monumental headache. He wound up on the metal surface, on his knees with his head bent to the ground and his arms around his head, hoping that not moving, not seeing and not hearing would help the pounding in his head a little. If it had not been so long since he'd last, eaten, he would have thrown up.

Megatron saw Soundwave place the human down carefully and pull his hands away. Sam curled up in a tight ball, arms over his head. Soundwave did not look like he was in much better shape, even with the mask covering his features. "Well?" the master demanded. "When will you try?"

"I have received a large amount of information in a very short burst, master," Soundwave stated. Megatron was astounded. Soundwave sounded unsettled. "He is the Witwicky boy. I would demand his death except that it seems it would do no good to kill him. If I understand the twisted mess his processor is correctly, he has died several times, and each time he returns in the body you see before you, except that all memories are intact from his entire span of life. He remembers dying at your hand and he lost his voice at that time. He has no inkling of the process, only that it occurs." He shuddered, reeling from the bitterness and pain in the boy's mind.

That was the biggest emotional reaction Megatron had seen in Soundwave since he met the communications specialist, back on Cybertron at the beginning of the war. What in the Pits did the boy have in his head? "So he had been hiding as a feral human all this time?" Megatron wondered aloud.

"No, master. He has been a slave several times, in a variety of jobs, and each time with a different name, it seems. He fought with the Autobots and the resistance. The amount of information in that small processor is astonishing, but the information is very illogically organized, and I cannot sort out which memories belong where in any kind of timeline. The human mind is illogical. This one's is the worst I have encountered."

"Is he insane?" Megatron asked. He reached over and scooped the human into his hands. Absently, he stroked a finger over Sam's neck and back. Sam untwisted from the tight ball and lay still under the petting, no longer in any condition to register protest at being handled.

"No. He is well aware of reality. There is simply no logic to the way his memories are connected, and he has more memories, in great detail, than most humans. Should the Autobots find him, he would be very dangerous."

"Rest assured, Soundwave, that I have every intention of keeping my human safely contained. I want the information you just provided me kept quiet for now." He dismissed the communications specialist. Megatron received a call that one of the supervisors from the nearby school arrived with the supplies Lord Megatron requested and was ready to evaluate the human.

Sam, placed on his feet again, steadied and glanced at the new 'con coming in the door. Strangely enough, when Megatron ran his warm finger down Sam's back and neck, the rubbing forced tense muscles to relax and the headache subsided somewhat. The 'con was carrying some kind of case with him. "My lord, "he said, still standing by the door. "I was sent to bring supplies for a human?"

Megatron waved him in. "I asked for someone who is familiar with humans, to look at this one. We just found him and know nothing of him, and he does not seem to be capable of talking. He has made no noise even when hurt."

The supervisor knew about the visit to the facility, of course, and that this was the human found in the woods. "Come here, little one," he said. Sam glanced at Megatron and walked over warily. At a closer look, the supervisor clicked in annoyance. "My lord, until he's cleaner, I can't tell much. He looks like he's rolled in dirt, and those coverings are ruined.

About two hours later Sam was clean, dressed in clean clothes, examined and was eating something. Megatron was highly entertained by the process. Not only did Sam have no objection to being clean, he couldn't get clean fast enough. He had no objection to being daubed with ointment as the supervisor looked him over, or to having his hair cut until his ears, neck, and forehead were exposed. He looked unhappy when his clothes were taken away. He did not like the exam at all, which the supervisor expected and dealt with firmly. Done, the supervisor gave him clothes, and when he had dressed, pulled out a packet and gave it to him.

"What is that?' the Decepticon leader asked. "Then report."

"Food," the supervisor said promptly. "That's what we give the trainees for their first meal. " Megatron nodded as Sam opened the package and began to eat. "I do not believe he has ever worn a collar, master, but he is familiar with being ordered and handled by one of us without being overly punished. I would say he lost his voice to an accident of some kind when he was very young. Otherwise he is healthy and strong. He is about the age of the trainees at the facility, I believe. "

Megatron noted that Sam finished his meal and called him back over. "Look at me," he commanded. Sam looked up. The supervisor was correct. If he did not know better, he would think the young human was just another slave-once he had a collar. "If a patrol found him in the woods, looking like this, and brought him to you, what would you think and what would you do? Assume that the patrol had already requested information and got none."

"Process him," the supervisor said promptly. "Likely he's a flawed slave who got dumped when he was young and managed to survive somehow." His voice said what he thought of that. Most slave supervisors thought that flawed slave children should be culled, not abandoned. "Here we would send him to one of the factories. There are jobs where the flaw would not matter because with the noise, they have to use hand gestures anyway. My last assignment was at one." After showing his leader the rest of what was in the case, the supervisor was dismissed.

"So has that happened to you?" the Decepticon leader said to the boy he had killed almost two vorns ago. He meant it as a rhetorical question, but Sam nodded."Working in a factory or being found and processed?" Sam made a gesture of bringing his hands together. "Both?" The human nodded again. While Megatron was thinking that there had to be a better way to communicate, there was an internal message. He drew Sam into his hand again and gave Hook permission to come in.

Sam followed the Decepticon leader's gaze. Two Decepticons came in; Sam knew one as Hook, and the other was a drone. From the look on his face, Hook remembered Sam, as well. The construction Decepticon came in with some kind of metal mesh. Megatron moved so they could watch, and Sam's heart twisted. Hook was building a cage. The drone dumped off trunks, and reported in Cybertronian. Megatron dismissed him. Hook was finished with the cage, an area in the corner enclosed by the mesh. The top lifted. Megatron placed Sam in it, along with the case the supervisor brought in. "Get settled," he advised.

Sam looked into the trunk to find a sleeping pad and several blankets. He saw other stuff, but that was all that interested him at the moment. Clean, with a full stomach-granted, the food tasted like the normal slave ration, which was to say that it made cardboard taste good in comparison, but it was still food- and with all of maybe an hour's worth of sleep after two days of constant movement, he fell onto the pad, covered himself completely with the blankets, and went to sleep.

Hook produced a set of plans based on the information his master gave him. Megatron looked them over, compared them to what he thought the human would need and what he wanted him to have, and approved the plans and the time it would take.

He noticed the looks Hook kept sending to the temporary holding. "Why are you so curious? "he purred dangerously.

Hook gave him a startled look. "The boy reminds me of a human I fought far back in the war, my lord. I wonder if it could be a remote offspring."

"Why would you remember a particular human?" Megatron asked. There had to be a reason Hook remembered one human out of the thousands he killed in the war. "Did he give you that good of a fight?"

"It was back in the years of the war, right after the third wave. Back when they still had some weapons that could do real damage. He and a female with him took out Starscream and his trine mates, and two in my unit. None of them could be revived. " Hook shivered. "We lost five in that one fight, to two trained human fighters. Hard to believe when you see slaves now."

Now Megatron understood. Starscream and his trine were damned tough together. They had taken out more Autobots than any other group Megatron had, which was why Megatron had not killed them despite Starscream's slagging backstabbing.

"All of us were damaged. The humans could have been a breeding pair." The builder picked up the plans and rolled them. "His skin was darker, but otherwise he does look like that soldier. " Hook gave his master an approving look. "What a delicious irony. The feral descendant of the one who killed Starscream, caged. I like it. That's an unusual name."

"I call him after the human that tried to hide the Cube and died. I offered to keep him as a pet if he gave me the Cube, and he defied me." Megatron was pleased at the idea for his pet's name. "I intend to tame him, the way I would have tamed that one." Amusement lit the red orbits, and Hook was glad that amusement was not aimed at him. For a short moment, he pitied the human in the corner. "Sam is much like the humans used to be. Intelligent. Defiant. Creative. " He looked at Hook. "But, being mine, he will have the best." Hastily Hook agreed, and left.

Megatron reluctantly returned to his neglected work.

Sam watched Hook come and go over the next several days, and heard noise through the door. Trying to guess what the construction 'con was doing helped the boredom; Sam was used to working his butt off just to survive, and while the rest was welcome, he seriously missed food that had taste and the smell of fresh air. Hook studied him several times. Sam cast his mind back to those long ago days, when there was hope of pushing the Decepticons out. Hook witnessed his second death, and Sam was savagely glad the construction robot regretted it, if only as long as it took him to get fixed.

By that time the Autobots had left Earth for two decades. Bumblebee almost begged Sam and Mikaela to come; he said that Ironhide was making the same offer to Will Lennox and his family, and the others to more humans. They were trying to lure away the Decepticons, but wanted to have humans with them just to ensure the survival of the race. Sam and Mikaela talked it over, and refused.

Sam did not officially join Sector Seven or the armed forces; instead he was listed as a civilian employee coordinating the Autobots when they were on Earth, and afterward that job morphed into logistics. He worked with Will constantly, as did Mikaela. They married as soon as he turned twenty-one. There were no children. He had to learn self-defense and weapons. Mikaela's skills with mechanics were a godsend. Her father joined as soon he got out of prison, and worked with them until he was killed in an attack.

God, the deaths- they were in a war, and they knew it. When the President died, killed in an assassination by some damned idiotic neo-Nazi group, the vice president yielded to the groups that wanted to negotiate. Megatron had a fine time playing with them. They turned over Sector Seven to the Decepticons, all of them, an act of treachery that caused half the armed forces to break away and join the organizing resistance. The Secretary of Defense sent out orders, and every little piece of weaponry that would work against the robots disappeared from the warehouses, along with the ammunition. Sam remembered the pain in the ass coordinating that little piece of necessary theft was.

Simmons got all the information they had on Megatron and any other aliens to Sam and Bumblebee before he was taken into custody; Banachek did the same with Will with the weapons and special items.

On the day that Seymour Simmons and his fellow agents were killed, in various messy ways, in front of a horrified nation, Will and his squad, Sam and Mikaela were in the middle of organizing the resistance. Sam's parents and Will's family, along with the families of the other soldiers and agents that they could reach, came with them. His parents died natural deaths, his father a heart attack, and his mother a septic gallbladder. They worked for the resistance until those deaths, supporting their son.

The Decepticons destroyed the government, and the armed forces that remained under the command of the stupid and power hungry. The population of the United States and Canada dropped by half in two years as the cities died. Sam believed that the other countries in the world faced the same problems, but his war was in North America; the fact that there were three countries there did not matter after the cities were gone.

What did work were the guerrilla tactics that the resistance organized. Even better, many, many ordinary people began fighting back when they could. Even if all they could do was feed the resistance fighters, they did, and that offset the viciousness that the loss of law and order caused in so much of humanity. One by one the different resistances killed the robots, and what was left of the All-Spark did not always work to revive them. They learned to aim for the spark or to blow the bodies to bits if possible. They whittled down the Decepticons and were on the verge of a final push to finish when the reinforcements arrived. Wave after wave of Decepticons came down. While they became steadily more organized, they began systemically breaking down order and spreading chaos with what was left of human civilization. Humans fought-how they fought!- but slowly they were beaten down, until only a fraction were left alive and the enslavement accelerated.

Sam was there when Starscream took out Will. The jet knew he was close to the base. Will came out the more obvious gate to confront Starscream as the rest of the base evacuated, under orders to get the hell out no matter what happened to him. "I'm dead, "Will said to Sam and Mikaela, who protested. Will had inoperable cancer. "Sarah and Annabelle went with Ironhide. You guys are the only hope we've got left. You let me take care of this." They honored his choice, watching while Starscream played with Will until everyone was gone. Mikaela and Sam were the last to leave. Her aim was better, so Mikaela was the one who made the mercy kill, and then they took off.

He remembered taking down Starscream and the two in his trine that came to join him in the wave of reinforcements. Skywarp and Thundercracker were as nasty as Starscream, though not as smart, and Skywarp's teleportation was a morale crusher.

Sam and Mikaela were on their way to deliver ammunition to scattered dumps when Sam died the second time. They stopped to get water. Sam saw the ground 'con too late. Sam got him down with a bazooka. "I think he reported," Sam said in his mechanical voice.

"Remember the pact," Mikaela said. She was almost three times the age they were when they met, and she looked it. Her hair was as white as his; her face tanned and beginning to show some wrinkles. She was grim and tough and he adored her still. Sam, as tough as she but not as worn, only nodded. The pact was that you did not allow a fellow soldier to be taken alive. Resistance soldiers were killed in agonizing and lingering ways by the most visible means possible.

They headed for the only shelter they knew, an old antiaircraft dump. They saw a jet above them but it did not fire. Mikaela scrambled out of the truck and prepped the weapon as Sam got the truck under the shelter. They loaded, and Sam stacked more ammunition as she began the lookout.

He tripped and fell against her, and the weapon went off, just as Skywarp appeared. It took the teleporter directly in the spark. Mikaela shrieked in surprise and triumph, and Sam scrambled up to stare in shock. Then they loaded as fast as they could, hope rising. They had one, could they get another?

They hear the screams of another robot, and a transform. Thundercracker was standing over his trine mate, keening, and then he came at them- right into the next shot. That threw him back, and they reloaded frantically. He got up and came at them again, never the brightest and maddened with grief. They got him again, taking off his head. He fell on top of Skywarp.

They loaded, and gulped water and food. Two, they got two! Two that would never get up again! Sam and Mikaela knew they were dead, but they were together at the end, which was more than they could have hoped for. They had already taken two of the worst with them. That was more than a fair exchange, and if they knew the trines, they might just have another chance…

He gave Mikaela one last hard kiss. He could see Hook and his group approaching, and warned Mikaela. She only nodded, scanning for Starscream already. He started to set up the explosives. If they could not get the ammunition out, they would take it with them, and maybe one or two more of the enemy.

But Hook was cautious. He knew the resistance's techniques by now. Cornered Resistance soldiers would do almost anything to take a Decepticon with them; charging that little spot might mean a permanent death. Sam remembered catching Hook's optic. "Come out and I'll give you a quick death," Hook called. "You and the femme both."

"Overload yourself, Decepticon," Sam snarled in his artificial voice. Starscream arrived, and the jet was wild, screaming what he was going to do to the maggots that killed his brothers, but his shots were wild and inaccurate. Sam got the last wire set, got the dead man's trigger in his hand, and waited. They were going to get one more no matter what. When he went, the truck would.

Mikaela cursed; she could not get the weapon trained on Starscream and they could not afford to waste a shot. The jet transformed and instead of shooting, slammed into them.

The weapon exploded. Blood and energon splattered over Sam. Starscream fell over, light coming through the hole in his chest where the spark chamber used to be, and slammed into Sam. Mikaela was so much broken meat. His heart tore. He thought then that he would join her fast enough. He could feel his own blood pouring out of wounds in his back and stomach. He was pinned by Starscream's bulk.

He could hear them coming, charging, determined to get to him before he could set off the explosives. They laughed, thinking they had reached him in time, and sent his body flying, yanking the trigger out of his hand. He heard the explosion as he landed and everything went blank.

Hook came out that back room and their gazes caught. For just a few seconds, Hook was certain that the same fighter who defied him all those years ago was standing in front of him, and he was glad the human was in a cage. Then the moment passed, and the human was only a brooding feral human again. Hook thought briefly that the human should be collared and put to work, before going about his business.

Megatron did not miss the exchange and when Hook left, closing the door behind him and thus ensuring that Sam did not have a way out, he took Sam from the cage and placed him on the desk. "Did you take out Starscream?" he asked. Sam nodded. "You saved me some trouble, then." He would have had to kill Starscream before too much longer; the Seeker was causing more trouble than he was worth by that time.

There were other visitors. One took Sam from the cage and scanned him before putting him back. Others came to see Megatron and just looked at him. One poked at him and got chewed out by the Decepticon leader in Cybertronian. Sam concluded that Megatron was possessive.

About a week after he was found, he woke to find Megatron watching him. After he voided and ate something, his captor pulled him out of the cage and put him in a bucket of warm water with some kind of solvent. Taking the hint, Sam cleaned up. When he was pulled out onto the desk, there was a cloth to dry with, and then an outfit in black soft cloth. Megatron was tense with some kind of anticipation. Sam's heart clenched, and he wondered if he was about to be executed.

He blanked out his expression. He was no longer afraid of death. He was afraid of pain, and he was afraid of being the Decepticon lab rat. He doubted he would be dressed for display for lab work, but in the past the Resistance fighters were executed in painful and lingering ways. At the same time, he was not going to give the Decepticons any more reason to gloat over him than he could help. Megatron caught him in one hand and pulled something out of a drawer. Sam started to struggle, and got the breath squeezed from him. While he was gulping air, Megatron got the body harness on him, and hooked a chain onto it. Then he picked Sam up and carried him away.

A few hours later Sam stood at a clearing and watched as the last human base collapsed into a pile of rubble. There was something of a large gathering there. You were a soldier, Sam told himself. You saw people die. You saw all kinds of destruction. You've seen buildings come down as a construction slave, and this is just one more. It was still all he could do not to cry. He wondered when his turn would come.

"Look at me," Megatron said. Sam turned and faced the monster five times his size. "You have lived freely; you can no longer be allowed to associate with your own kind, and are exiled from them. " He reached down and picked Sam up, and in a motion too quick for Sam to avoid, snapped a collar around his neck, perfectly smooth and cold onyx, solid black and tight enough that Sam could not pull it off and loose enough not to choke him. Sam tested it, feeling the electronics all collars carried, and dropped his hands. When he was still again, the Decepticon leader went on, "I claim you now as my own, as a living reminder of what humans used to be and never will be again."


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Transformers except in some wistful daydreams

Thanks again to Mrs. Bumblebee and Jason Grey for the original background for this story.

**Chapter Three**

**Chapter Three**

Sam was climbing the walls. Literally.

He managed to get to the latch this time and fiddle with it for some time before he heard Megatron's steps approaching. By this time he could tell his so-called owner's stride from other 'con's. When the door opened, he was on the floor again. He had to jump a little further than usual this time, though, and he stumbled against the side and managed to catch himself before he fell.

"Why am I cursed with such idiotic fools for Decepticons, Sam? " the Decepticon leader grumbled. Something slammed on the desk, a drawer opened, and slammed again, and then Megatron came over to open the lid of the cage and lift Sam out. "I need those mines to produce." He set Sam on the desk.

Megatron paced and went over his plans while Sam listened and watched. Sam became Megatron's sounding board early on. Being mute, Sam could not voice unwanted opinions, but he was an intelligent being who could listen and nod or shake his head at moments. Nor would Sam be able to betray the Decepticon leader's thoughts or plans.

Today was no exception. He stood on the desk and listened to Megatron rant, and was reminded of when his 'owner' brought him back from the clearing in the woods.

He expected to be executed, or collared and shoved into a slave outpost in the back end of nowhere. Instead he was being –claimed? Exiled? What in the slag was running through Megatron's processors?

Back in the cage, he paced, occasionally pulling at the collar. He had almost forgotten what the constant weight on his neck felt like. The collar would eventually form a mark around his neck, the way that wedding rings and constantly worn watches used to, back in the day when humanity had such luxuries. Most slave collars were made of steel. This one was actually made of onyx embedded in gold. Any collar had to have metal to conduct the electric shock that was its control.

He rubbed the clothes he wore, trying to figure out the material, and why anyone would use it. It did feel good against his skin, but he doubted that was why Megatron chose it. No slave uniform was black that he had ever seen. They tended not to have color at all, and when they did they were colors like blue or gray or green. Uniforms also tended to be of rough cloth that could last, like canvas or denim. Then he understood. What he was wearing, both collar and clothes marked him as Lord Megatron's possession and set him apart.

He was to be 'a living reminder of what humans could be and never will be again'. Sam remembered hearing the comments of the bystanders. The Decepticons who fought in the war and dealt with the resistance liked that statement a lot. The later arrivals thought that keeping a human penned away from other humans was just a waste of a strong back.

After pacing for some time, Sam stopped, took a deep breath, and forced himself to shove aside emotions and try to think. Don't ask why, he reminded himself. Ask for the reason. What reason does Megatron have for keeping me in a pen, keeping me from other humans, and not killing me?

The sound of Megatron approaching the cage sent him to the back of his enclosure. Once again he was lifted from the cage, but this time they went into the room Hook was working in.

Directly in sight of the door was an area made for a human. It held what a human would need- areas to clean up, something to void into, areas to sleep, some shelves that held food, empty shelves, and a chest of the same clothes he was wearing. The area took up a tiny portion of the huge room, which was clearly where Megatron came for recharge and private time. Sam realized that there would be no such thing as privacy. There were no walls, but posts at each corner. Megatron put Sam in the enclosure and Sam could hear a faint whine. He could see some kind of line on the floor. When he tried to cross it, his collar pressed against his throat.

He backed up and turned to explore. There was a water faucet here, with towels and a bottle of solvent nearby. The water ran warm, and Sam wondered where it came from. Sam knew the solvent could be used on clothes as well as skin. There was a waste disposal like the one in his cage. The sleeping pad was larger and thicker, and there were several blankets. There was a trunk of foodstuffs, better than the normal slave ration and another trunk holding more of the black clothes. Sam looked over at Megatron, at a loss. What was he supposed to think now?

"You belong to me now. And anything of mine is taken care of." That day and several days after, they inspected the contents of the trunks the drone brought, which held everything the base had in it. Most of it was junk, but not all, and Sam salvaged quite a bit, including a lot of books.

Sam concluded that something was driving Megatron that neither of them understood. More and more, Sam could sense something trying to influence him-right out the damned door and to something, which was why he tried to get out of the cage when left alone for any length of time. What? He had no idea.

That night and many nights to come, Sam's mind kept sweeping around what Megatron said to him in the clearing. Since Sam was born free, educated as an intelligent being, and was trained to take care of himself, Megatron saw him as a reminder that humans were not always domestic animals. Given any opportunity at all, they could and would recover and fight back; Sam could teach them how. Therefore Sam had to be removed from contact with them-exiled. If Megatron could not kill the stubbornly resurrecting human, then the Decepticon leader would keep him confined and under his optic until he figured out what was going on.

Did he know that he was admitting to forcibly downgrading a species to keep them inferior, and that in doing so, he was admitting that species was as sentient as his own?

Sometimes when Megaton was in the room, Sam had free run. In the office, he was on the desk, on a shelf Megatron installed nearby, or in the cage. Outside the office he was on the harness. At the same time his 'owner 'tended to be fiercely protective; any other 'con coming near Sam better have a reason.

Once or twice he was able to get hold of a datapad and play with it a little…

Megatron wound down eventually and looked Sam over. He seldom left Sam behind when he left, preferring to keep the human with him, but he was inspecting the mines, and he did not take Sam where there were humans around.

Megatron got information on Sam in bits and pieces. Soundwave put the word out to provide information on any male slave with white hair who looked Sam's apparent age, from any time period. Occasionally, when he met with Megatron on routine matters, he reported progress.

Soundwave brought his cassettes at times. After their mutually unpleasant experience that first day, Sam was wary of Soundwave, and Megatron put him into his area of the private quarters, setting the barrier. Soundwave sent his cassettes in with Sam, to observe him. The first time, they were grouchy about it, though they obeyed. Sounds came out of the door, muted.

When the meeting was over, Megatron opened the door to his private room. A bright greed disc sailed past him, about knee level. He watched it pass by in some disbelief. Ravage slunk by to fetch it and take it back into the room, tossing it with a jerk of his head into Sam's area. Sam caught it. Frenzy, Razorbeak, and Buzzsaw all slunk out of the room as well, lining up behind Soundwave. There was some silent communication. Noting there was no damage anywhere, Megatron dismissed them all.

He noted that the cassettes did not protest 'observing' Sam again.

Megatron did not like the reports he was getting from space, and he wanted to increase the planetary defenses and warning systems. This required metal. Normally the mine Sam had taken refuge in would be too much trouble to reopen, but not now. Besides, he got a lot of complaints about the manpower the mines wasted. Humans were certainly replaceable but they still had to be raised and trained.

When Megatron inspected one of the mines and looked into the death rates of the humans working there, he was appalled. There was no reason to waste strong slaves the way they were being wasted in the mines. It was not a matter of mercy, but of common economic sense. More food, sensible and inexpensive safety precautions, and less vicious punishment would save serious credits. Other facilities who had those policies proved not only more productive but much more productive. He had no idea who sent him that report but he was glad he had seen it.

Well, Bonecrusher was coming in and he was going to listen and implement the changes, or he would be replaced. There were several subordinates who would be delighted to take his place while Bonecrusher went to the asteroid mines, if it came to that. Still, despite his damned temper, the mech did have more experience with the mines than any other Megatron had. He got the message that Bonecrusher was coming and put Sam in his quarters instead of in the pen. Bonecrusher did not like humans.

He was surprised at how much of a difference having the company of the slave made in his daily routine. Sam was someone to rant to, someone to distract him when he was frustrated, and a soothing presence when he worked. He did his own self care, and a drone dealt with food deliveries when it cleaned his quarters. His ongoing silence was something of a comfort when he had to listen to his pit-spawned subordinates whining. Communication was a problem, but more and more they worked out signs for basic needs and ideas, and Sam did have an expressive face when he chose to use it.

As Megatron expected, the meeting was unpleasant. Eventually it ended and Bonecrusher went out of the door with the specific threat that there would be another inspection within the solar cycle and his master expected improvement unless the mine overseer wanted to start supervising the asteroid mines. Megatron pushed the door to his quarters open and called Sam when the office door opened again.

"Master, I wanted to ask-"he stopped, staring at Sam, who was in Megatron's hands. The expressions that moved across his face ranged from shocked, to calculation, to disgust, before finally settling to a blank. Megatron watched, wondering if Bonecrusher was going to attack. He set Sam on the desk. Sam kept his head down and edged behind his master's hand.

"Yes? I will tell you again, Bonecrusher, this is not a matter of softness, but of sense! If treating the humans better will increase production, then do it!"

"It is not a matter I wish to discuss in front of a babbling slave," Bonecrusher said with some stiffness.

"Sam, being mute, does not babble," Megatron said. Bonecrusher relaxed just a little. "Why does he disturb you?"

"I was concerned about a possible security breech," Bonecrusher retorted, and asked his question. The respond was simple enough. "He reminds me of the last resistance leader," the mining supervisor admitted. "Gave us a lot of trouble for about a quarter of a vorn, before we finally cornered him. He took out a few of my unit when he died. He was older than this one, skin and hair was darker. We were trying to take him alive, under orders."

"I remember that," Megatron said thoughtfully. "We needed examples. The last one, you say?"

"Last one on this continent," Bonecrusher said, considering. "I think we executed the last one in the continent over, in the rain forest, about a year after that. We had a hard time there because of the terrain. That group was more a rock in a joint than anything else. The one that looked like your pet, his group did some real damage. About half the ones they killed couldn't be brought back. "He turned to go. "Not like the humans we have now, who know their place and have some use."

"Then quit wasting them." Bonecrusher closed the door behind him, and heard a snort. He hated the memory of that particular human. He was a slave at one of the first mines Bonecrusher supervised. There was a cave-in, and the slaves in it were presumed dead. The slave that looked like the master's was one of them. Some time after, the sneak attacks started. Slaves disappeared.

The incidents never seemed to stop, even when they made examples of the ones caught. Bonecrusher was buried under an avalanche when the mine was destroyed but when he saw the resistance leader in a hologram, he recognized one of his slaves. He feared anyone ever hearing that an escaped slave was the leader who cost them so many lives. Over the human years the group fought, they lost eight of his unit _permanently_. It still smarted. It took extreme security measures and a lucky capture before they managed to crush the resistance group.

Megatron did not see the look of hate Sam shot at Bonecrusher, but he did see the gesture Sam made at him when he went out the door, and he barely smothered his laugh into the snort. "Won't work," he informed Sam, who snorted in his turn. "So you were the last resistance leader. I should have known, shouldn't I." It was not a question. He touched Sam's collar. It was a reminder to both of them that Sam was pretty much helpless. The human strength in the war lay in their weapons and their knowledge of their planet.

"Better to keep you under my optic, I think," Megatron said, in a meditative way. "I will find out everything that happened to you, eventually." Sam shrugged. "In the meantime, I think you need to eat." He let Sam chose his food and a bottle of water, and sipped his own energon while Sam ate. Then they set up a chess game. Megatron always won, but Sam was progressing enough to give an entertaining game.

Sam looked over the chess game and waited for Megatron to make his move

He did not have to work as hard on giving a good game without winning, and he let his mind wander a little.

Bonecrusher was a sadistic bastard, and one of Sam's personal failures was not permanently killing him. Sam woke after his death with Mikaela to being in one of the slave camps. He was chained to a spot on the floor like the other slaves and naked except for a blanket. When the slaves were all roused in the morning, Sam was given clothes, a far too small amount of food, and hauled to the mine with the others. Humans were consistently used in the mines because of the limited space.

That year in the mines stood out in his mind as few other experiences in his long life did. Afterward he experienced hell as a slave, but more in isolated incidences than the ongoing hell that the mines were. Humans died like flies there. The workers wore chains, and the work was grinding hard labor. The whip was used constantly. Anyone who got sick was killed. Sam woke to looking like a teenager again, and the older men did try to protect him somewhat.

Six months into the year Sam was there, they had an influx of young men around his apparent age. They were young and strong, athletes that reminded Sam of Trent. Half of them died within a month, and they were steadily replaced. The older men all died. Sam became the one who had been at the mine the longest, and he was the one who found the cave.

Talk was discouraged in the mine by the whip, but the men had hand signals. When his group members were all in a shaft that a bot could not get into, Sam signaled one to check out the cave while the rest of them worked on. The scout came back excited. Sam motioned to the shafts on either side, and they destroyed them. The wood used- metal rusted too quickly- splintered in seconds, and they all rushed for the cave. It was natural, and did not fall during the cave in.

They all came out, taking the tools with them. They were in a wooded area. Sam immediately led them deep into the heavy forest. It was the end of spring, just beginning to get into summer, and there was a peach tree. They attacked the fruit. Then they found berries, and Sam killed a squirrel. They did not worry about cooking, but each shared a bite of the meat. Then they all got the chains off, using the tools. By some miracle, they did not break anyone's wrist or ankle. Sam examined the bands carefully to see if there was anything embedded to track them, but he did not find anything.

It took them two weeks to find free humans. The old man was crankly, fussed constantly, and pointed out a nearby pond where they could bathe. He gave them homemade soap. Sam almost scrubbed his skin off. By the time they returned, the man had a huge pot of oatmeal cooked and fish frying. He handed them a bowl of radishes and spring onions. No one tried to be polite, and ate like wolves.

Full, clean and grateful, they asked him what he needed done. There was more work done on that small farm in the time they were there than the old man had been able to do for month. To the miners, used to a day's hard labor on little food , plowing was easy work, and Sam went into the woods regularly with the old man to trap animals and hunt for wild plants and fruits. They left him happy, with his crops well in the ground and enough food to replace what they ate. He gave them some supplies when they left with the resistance.

Sam found out his fellow workers were members of a military college that dug in and protected themselves, until they were found by the robots and targeted for the labor source. They believed what the slave masters told them, that Sam had his voice taken out for asking questions, and Sam did not correct them. He and they had only one goal at that time- they intended to get revenge on the robots for the hell they had escaped from, and if humanly possible, rescue their fellow slaves.

No one questioned where Sam got his skills. They were hiding in a natural cave, deep underground, and the resistance leader had a list of places that might have canned food and weapons storage. They gathered as much as they could. They hunted- game was plentiful. They became master scavengers from what was left of the human remains. Sam was especially skilled at this job. Once he had some idea of where they were, he led a group to find the last caches of ammunition and weapons that would work against the Decepticons.

They managed to contact the remains of the military school and get them to the safety of the base, and set the school up as a trap. Sam did some exhaustive planning. The Decepticons shut down that part of the mine and never bothered to try to find the bodies; there was no hunt for missing slaves.

The mines were situated in a valley and the mountains above were covered in snow during the winter, when it was easier to leave the slaves in the mine itself than to try and keep them warm outside. They cleared the slaves out of the mine using the cave. They set timed explosives inside the mine shafts. Then they created an avalanche with carefully placed explosives on the mountain.

They got an unexpected bonus in that several of the robots, Bonecrusher included, were buried in the huge devastation that the avalanche created. The resistance was overjoyed. The Decepticons were neutralized until their command looked into matters and dug them out, which took over a year. In the meantime, the resistance made progress in establishing safe spots and protected areas.

For years, they operated as quietly as possible. The goal was to keep as many humans free as possible, and to live without being caught. Eventually, the Decepticons figured out that the 'accidents' were being engineered, and that the resistance existed. The hunt started.

Unable to speak, Sam advised through writing when he could and through example when he could. Leaders normally kept him in jobs that did not involve direct fighting; even mute, he was recognized as a prize information source. He did the best he could, but it was not enough. It was never enough. The number of soldiers was whittled down slowly. They did damage. They freed slaves and got them to the best safety they could, teaching them basics and scattering them so they would not easily be caught.

But the Decepticons were consolidating their grip on Earth, and concentrating on the few areas with free humans. Sam knew that the 'cons had a slow, agonizing death planned for the members of the last few free human groups; they announced it every chance they got, to keep the slaves in line.

There were always volunteers for missions. Sometimes the 'cons they killed came back, and sometimes they did not. Everyone kept poison, and everyone swore to the pact. Then two got captured by being knocked unconscious in a blast, and never had a chance to use their poison. They were set for public execution.

Sam and his group took the last long range sniper weapon they had, and set it up. They set up the last weapons with robot killing capacity, and waited for the execution to start. The shots rang out, stopping their comrade's pain, and the executioner died in front of the human audience, which scattered.

The snipers shot themselves when they knew they could not escape. The ones with the 'con-killing weaponry blew it when their attackers got too close. They took out another'con that way.

In the end, Sam took two of them with him. They herded him into a blind canyon, determined to take him alive. He was driving a covered truck full of the last robot-damage explosive, recklessly using the last of the fuel. He scrambled out of the truck, and set off the explosive as the Decepticons came for him. He was proud of his score, even now. In total he killed over twenty Decepticons personally, and helped kill a lot more. At least he had reduced human misery a little, had slowed if not stopped the takeover.

It was his third death. He estimated that he had lived around half his life then.

"Your mind is not on the game," his master said, breaking Sam out of his memories. Sam looked at the board and moved his piece. "Checkmate!" the master said triumphantly, and Sam sighed.

Why did this power, thing, whatever, force him to keep living? What more did he need to do to get out of this never-ending cycle of humiliation? The robots looked at him and saw the symbol of humanity's subjugation. They looked at him and thought how humanity was reduced to serving as toys when their ancestors died to keep from being captured.

There had to be an answer. There had to be a reason.

Author's note- Should I update more than once a week?


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Transformers or I would be rich. **

**Thank you for all the reviews on the updates; we'll try it and see how it goes. **

**Chapter Four**

On his next visit, Soundwave brought a tentative timeline for Sam. "Now that he is stronger and seems to be stable, I would like to try to question him again," the second in command requested.

Soundwave observed that his master was very protective of Sam, and that he kept the human close to him. He noted that his cassettes liked being around the human. He considered that Razorclaw, Shrapnel, and some other supervisors found reasons to keep their version of Sam close by. He forced Bonecrusher into revealing more about his experience with the white-haired slave, and there were a few others that had to be leaned on to provide information. Several were no longer on the planet. But there was something he was missing, he was certain of it, and that missing piece was the key to understanding Samuel James Witwicky's ongoing renewal and reason he attracted protection and the desire to control from Cybertronians. In his long lifetime, the telepath knew that hate was a response to an unwilling attraction.

"I agree. I think he's better; we can try again. But if he becomes upset, stop." At a nod from Soundwave, Ravage went to the other room and nudged Sam, who was reading. Sam looked up, and seeing Megatron beckon, went to him. Soundwave did not miss the apprehensive look the human sent him. Ravage returned to his creator's side. Megatron lifted Sam to the desk, but did not let go. "It won't be as bad this time," Megatron assured him, at the pleading look Sam sent him.

Every time Soundwave came, Sam worried that there would be another telepathy session. Last time he was exhausted and close to hysteria, and that hysteria drove Soundwave out. This time he had his head together and he was more afraid. A warm finger fell on the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Soundwave did not ask questions this time. Sam felt that presence, and then the memories began to flood through…

He was in the factory, on the assembly line. He had been there for over ten years, working with the saws. He had a record for the least injury in that time period, because he only lost pieces of two fingers. Beside him, one of the other slaves was saying that the examiner was there to evaluate males for stud duty. Sam had been in that position before, and sworn never to be back in it. He waited until the supervisor came over and confirmed that they were to power down the machines in the next hour so they could be examined. The rest of the workers were excited. He kept glancing back until the supervisor was across the building. Then he rammed the wood the right way. Blood was everywhere, and the hand caught in the saws and the bones stopped the machinery. He screamed silently, clutching at the pumping arm and spraying warm sticky blood and the slave master came over cursing. A sword came out and there was a sharp pain in his back, and then a fade into darkness.

He was in the field, and the master ordered him to answer, and he could not, and the whip came down- again and again, and again, -then forever later, the agony ended when one of the blows broke something in his back and numbed him everywhere. Then, just as everything was going black, he heard the sulky voice saying, "He wouldn't scream-"

He could hear the tornado screaming down on them as the others screamed in the transport, and then they were all thrown out, and he hit the ground and something fell on top of him.

He was not well, though not really in pain, and there were slaves all around him who were sick as well, but then everything just faded away…

He was frightened out of his mind, as a voice breathed into his ear, "Pain? Anyone can hurt you. I want to possess you. I want to overwhelm you. I want you to fear me and crave me. That's real power, sweet," as a hard body held him down and hands began to explore his body, testing his pain and pleasure points. Relief came as someone interrupted his tormenter, but they both knew it was a matter of time before the tormenter would come after Noisy again. But the tree fell wrong, and he heard the frustrated shriek as a branch impaled him through the gut. Pain, and pain, and pain, until they got the tree up and the branch came out and opened the big internal vessel on its way out.

And always, just after the pain ended, a calling, a longing, a need for something, and he did not understand- and then he would wake again-

Then the presence was gone, and he was left with a ringing emptiness in his head and a terrible headache. He curled up in Megatron's hands, seeking the warmth of the metal and to hide from light and sound.

Looking at Soundwave, who actually looked ill this time, Megatron said, "Let me guess, this time wasn't any better. " He placed Sam on his shoulder, rubbing the human's back and neck, feeling the tension release under his fingers.

"No, master. I will not attempt this again; he is damaging both of us with his erratic memories. I did confirm that most of the information I have on the timeline is correct."

Megatron looked down at his pet, now soundly sleeping, and wondered at himself. He was the Lord Megatron. Few knew how he had been frozen in the Arctic and used by the humans to advance their own technology. His revenge was complete; humanity was enslaved, and he had the remnants of the Cube left when Optimus slammed it into his spark, killing himself, with the boy's body was still in his hand. The shard of the Cube left would not begin new life, but it did revive off-lined robots most of the time; no one knew why it not revive some.

At the same time, he held the very boy he had killed, whose body lay on Optimus with the shard of the Cube, broken like it and like his brother, giving comfort for the pain from an action he condoned. Sam was supposed to remind him of humanity's threat. Megatron did not expect to care for the boy, and he knew without a doubt that the boy would bolt from him on the hint of an opportunity. After all, no matter what he called the boy, Sam was born free, and Sam would pursue that freedom if he could.

Hadn't he spent more than a human lifetime desperately trying to save what he could of his fellow humans? Oh, yes, Sam was more than certainly a danger should any opportunity arise to turn on his 'master' and free himself and his fellow humans. Megatron did not forget. But while he kept Sam isolated from his kind and confined, he had to admit the human meant something to him, and he would be loath to lose him.

He wished for a competent medic often, though. Hook would do drastic surgery if he had to, but he was not a medic. Megatron had to conserve the energy of the Cube shard, and many of his soldiers needed minor repairs. There were orders to capture, not kill, any competent medic they could. All Autobot medics were sworn to help any who asked, including the enemy if they needed and asked.

In the meantime, other matters began to take his attention. There was some indication that the Autobot alliance was probing them again. There were some encounters. Megatron came back several evenings and required Sam to help clean him up and polish his armor. He increased the patrols, and as luck would have it, his men got to a prize he never expected to get his hands on.

Sam was with Megatron for several solar cycles when they found the scouting party. Soundwave sent the information when he hacked the communications from them, and warned the patrol that there was one prize with them that was not to be killed and if possible taken in good condition. The commander, looking at his orders, called another patrol, and they overwhelmed the group. They managed to seize the prize, though they had to let the others escape to do so. They managed to damage them enough that the backup might have a chance to finish them, but the prize gave a lot of trouble until they pinned him down and put him in stasis. Megatron came as soon as they called him. He knew how to disable the weapons, and Hook created a device to keep them disabled until released.

They carried the prize to the med bay, set up containment and guards, and then released the prize from stasis. The optics came online, blue meeting red as he took in where he was. "Greeting, Ratchet," Megatron purred. "Glad you dropped in. We can use a medic."

Ratchet paced in the containment area. At first they brought him patients constantly. Finally Megatron himself intervened, setting times that his medic would work and ensuring he was not worked into forced recharge. Ratchet was nasty to the guards, but the damned things that they had attached to him to keep him in line worked quite well. Fortunately, his patients complained vocally for him when the guards interrupted his work, and the games stopped as Ratchet kept to his oath and repaired those that needed help. No one ever knew when they would need a medic, and he began to get the respect he knew he deserved.

The problem was, they also made certain he was contained. They seemed know any trick a prisoner could get up to. Ratchet had to wonder how. Decepticons were not known for holding prisoners in good condition for any length of time.

Ratchet kept expecting an interrogation or a hacking. Instead, he got a steady line of patients, and finally he asked one of his patients why. The guards were nowhere in sight. "No medics, "the 'con said, a little dazed by what Ratchet had to use to do the repair. "Hook's no good unless you're desperate; shard's no good except off-lines. "

Well, that told Ratchet something they had come to find out- there was an All-Spark shard. Too bad there was no way to tell his team. Truthfully, he had gotten lucky with that patient; the guards were careful to stay in listening range, and they would stop a patient from talking about subjects they did not want the medic to know.

The scouting party had two missions. One was directly from Rodimus Prime; find out if there was any news at all about the All-Spark, either as pieces of the Cube or as part of something else. If Ratchet remembered what the Prime said correctly, his vision stated that there were two pieces of the All-Spark on Earth, but they needed to be reunited to be truly functional. One was known to the Decepticons, and one was hidden in plain sight, but in danger of being discovered.

The second mission was to discover what happened to the human race still living on the planet. When they left, there were billions of people on Earth. Ratchet knew from the moment they did any scans of Earth that finding an unknown piece of the All-Spark was going to be next door to slagging impossible.

Human civilization was gone. There were no human cities left at all, and barely any ruins. The Decepticons had cleaned out any human debris from space, probably to use as scrap metal. There was human life, several millions from what Ratchet understood, but it was scattered around the planet, and always attached to some kind of Decepticon activity. His spark ached when he realized that there was less than a tenth of the human race living on Earth now than when he left

His spark twisted as he considered his own place in this mess. What had the humans used to say? He was 'screwed.' The rest of the team was forced to run or be slaughtered when the Decepticons attacked in force and then concentrated on him. He thought it was because he was the only one who was part of the original landing team, but from what Megatron told him, it was simply because he was a medic and they desperately needed one. There were times when he hated where the damned medic's oath took him.

The doors opened, but it was not the guards this time. The steps were too heavy, and despite himself he was afraid. He knew who it had to be.

Megatron came far enough into the med bay to see his captive medic, who stopped his pacing and turned to give him a steady, scorching gaze. His people had almost worked the Hatchet into the ground, but he intervened, and the medic looked well enough. As the Lord Protector expected, he worked on the hordes of patients who needed repairs steadily. He managed better with the repairs than they thought. Hook was more than glad to work on getting material for spare parts when he no longer was called to do unavoidable repairs.

There was a breathing space now, where the major repairs were done and the less urgent ones waited. He would need those taken care of, but for now he could question Ratchet and give him time to recover before the next set started. The medic would need the time to recover. 'The Hatchet's' temper was well known; he would not give up information easily. At the same time, he could not afford to hack the medic. He needed the slagging cranky healer for now.

"I have some questions for you." Ratchet felt the warning, and in the next moment he was on his knees. The devices they used to keep him in line worked _very _well. "I would suggest that you answer them quickly. I have all the time in the universe, but you will not enjoy prolonging the process."

Hours later Megatron left, leaving orders that the medic was not to see anyone for two days, at which time Megatron would see him again. The Lord Protector was not a happy robot. The Alliance had finished licking its wounds, and ready to deal with unfinished business. Megatron was sure they knew that he had a part of the Cube, and they know knew at least part of the situation on the humans.

He was certain that he could beat them off of his territory. They might even offer some kind of negotiation. But he had to deal with this mess personally, and that meant he needed to leave his human behind. He did not dare expose Sam to the dangers of space. At the same time, there were very few Decepticons he trusted to adequately care for Sam without an agenda of their own.

Ratchet was jumpy when Megatron appeared again. He was not in his containment, but in the med bay, working on getting his supplies settled. He had needed the two days to get his strength back. The session had been unpleasant and very draining, but had not gone as far as he had feared. He managed not to tell Megatron about the part of the All-Spark that was hiding in plain sight only because the Decepticon leader did not ask.

Megatron had his hands over something against his chest, held so Ratchet could not see what it was. One guard carried some kind of storage device, and the other was very jumpy. Ratchet stood against one of the medical berths and waited. Megatron sent the guards out with a short order, and the door closed behind them. Ratchet heard it lock. "I need for you to take care of my pet." With that shocking statement, he moved his hands and set a human on the berth.

Sam wondered why Megatron had him covered so completely. He heard Megatron talking to the guards, and he sounded harsh. He knew that there was something going on, and that Megatron was leaving for a time. He had gathered all of his stuff together and the master piled it into a trunk- damn, he had a lot of stuff now, a whole trunk full when all he used to own used to be on his back. Megatron was going to space, to check on his defenses and play negotiation games with the Alliance. Sam lost all hope of the Alliance getting anywhere; he remembered how Megatron played with the human governments.

Then Megatron was speaking to someone else, and one of the names was familiar. Then the master put him down. He was on some kind of medical berth. He glanced up, and then stared. He could not believe what he was seeing. It looked like Ratchet, but with something attached to his chest plates, arms and legs.

Ratchet looked down at the human, and the angry words he was about to speak died before they were voiced. It could not be. Sam had to be dead; humans only lived about a vorn at best, this must be a descendant of some kind. Dear Primus, but this young man looked like Sam the last time he had seen the determined boy, Mikaela by him, when Bumblebee pleaded with him one last time to come with them. They refused, with Mikaela looking at Ratchet, with their secret between them. Sam never got over Optimus' sacrifice, always feeling that he was responsible for that failure. Primus, how could anyone blame the youth he was for that fiasco?

The boy wore black in some kind of soft material. He wore a gold and black collar. Like Sam when they left, his hair was white and thick and short.

The young one looked at him, stunned; then he looked back at Megatron.

Megatron picked Sam up and put the human on his shoulder, stroking his back. Ratchet watched in shock. Megatron actually seemed fond of the human. "Behave for Ratchet, pet. I know you're safe with him." He put Sam down and leveled a look at Ratchet. "I hold you responsible for his good health until I return, medic." Then he turned and left.

He could count on Ratchet to look after any helpless being put into his care. There was enough food and water for more some time, and several of the other pet owners were under orders to be sure that his pet was kept supplied. There was some possibility that Ratchet could figure out what was going on with Sam, or figure out a way to communicate. Either would serve Megatron's purpose.

He had to admit, though, that he would miss his human. Sam would resent being called a pet, but he did not want Ratchet to know who Sam was; if Ratchet figured it out, then he would know that the medic had a way of communicating with Sam.

Sam watched Megatron walk out of the room, his heart pounding. Ratchet looked at him, and started talking in English. Sam had some trouble understanding him at first; evidently in over a century and a half, languages could start to shift. He was used to the language the slaves used, which was derived from English but had a lot of other languages mixed in with the vocabulary. "Well, it seems that Megatron wants both his prizes in a safe place." A guard looked in. Sam immediately looked down and became very still and quiet. Ratchet glanced at him before leveling a glare at the guard. Seeing that the medic was talking to the master's pet, the guard withdrew. "So what's your name?"

Sam looked at him and pulled down the collar, pointing to the scar. "What's this?" Ratchet asked, and began a scan. "Primus," the medic almost whispered. "Even the voice box is gone- how can you be so much like Sam? I know he and Mikaela swore to not have children until the planet was free of Decepticons." He blew air from his vents. "You've got some cousins, if you are Sam's descendant. I took some sperm and ova with me from them. There were some childless couples that came to the medics eventually, just like I hoped." He looked into the trunk Megatron brought. "Have to wonder how intelligent you are. For now, stay there," he put Sam in a corner by the wall almost blocked off by equipment, "and play with your toys, so I don't step on you by mistake. " He set the trunk so that it finished the blockage, and went back to his work.

Sam looked into the trunk and pulled out water and a protein bar. Then he rummaged, and pulled out his two favorite 'toys'. Megatron took him to a meeting with his archivist, who had a collection of old human machines he liked to play with. While the two robots talked, Sam wandered in Jetfire's junk. He had no idea at all how the old seeker managed to find a substitute for batteries for the laptop computer or the miniature music player, but they worked. The seeker, old by anyone's standards, was delighted when Sam showed him how to operate the other junk he had, and when Sam hovered longingly over the two items, he let the brilliant human have them. They were far too small for any Cybertronian to use, anyway.

Ratchet looked in on the pet at intervals, but left him alone. The pet was evidently used to being left to his own devices, and occupied himself without fuss. After a time Ratchet started to talk to him. The pet set down what he was dealing with to stand up and listen attentively. "Do you know, I've yet to see another human here," Ratchet told him, neatly sorting some of his tools. "Our scans showed there was a percentage left. "

He paused to concentrate on putting the box up and pulling another down. "I remember when we left, this planet was covered with humans. There were cities. Some of them had more than half the current population in them. There were all kinds of trash in space, old satellites and such, and the air crackled with transmissions. There were all kinds of entertainment. I remember how Bumblebee loved the radio, when his vocalizer couldn't work. He used to joke with your ancestor about how both of them had different voices. We made a mechanical vocalizer for Sam, but it sounded like what it was, a machine. I guess that's why he got into the logistics, where he talked more through computers than directly to people. He was a spokesperson for a while, until the president was killed and the slagging idiot that replaced him tried to negotiate. "

Hook came in with some materials Ratchet wanted. "Time to put it up, medic," he said, putting the containers on the berth. "Better get some recharge in while you can. Things might get lively soon." Ratchet said nothing, but he put up the last set of tools. Then he went to get the pet, and its trunk, intending to take him into the containment with him. Hook looked speculative.

"You've got to wonder how much that little fellow knows," he mused. "He goes almost everywhere with the Master, and sometimes when he doesn't know you're looking, you'd swear he understands everything he hears. I've heard the Master talking to him in his office sometimes. Not that it matters, him not being able to talk. He's got more secrets locked in him than the archives by now, and they may as well be written in the ancient language of the Primes."

"Does he have a name?" Ratchet asked, curious. The guards told him to get moving, and he stepped into the containment. The bars slid into place and lit up.

"Sam," Hook said from the door. "Named him after a human that refused to give him the Cube and died when knocked off a building. The Master admires courage, even in humans." The door closed and locked behind them. Ratchet put the human down, and helped it set up its blankets and pad, something for it to void in, and some food and water.

Then 'Sam' looked at him and made a deliberate gesture, as if he were throwing something. Ratchet looked at him, puzzled. The human made the gesture again, slowly, and added more.

He thought of Sam, and his processor went into overdrive. If this were Sam, these would be the hand gestures he made to talk until he got the vocalizer working, the 'American sign language' that the human doctors made Sam learn when most of their human vocalizers did not work. His family and Mikaela learned with him, and they taught Bumblebee, who then downloaded the information to the rest of the Autobots.

He dug in and found the programs. 'Sam' waited patiently, something the Sam Ratchet remembered seldom did. Then again, that Sam was not a pet.

_Ratchet, did Bumblebee ever get his voice fixed_?

It could not be, it could not be, humans did not live this long. This must be a descendant of some kind. "Yes," Ratchet said slowly. Then a guard appeared and looked in. Once again 'Sam' became very still and quiet, and in fact backed against the wall, with his head down.

"Who are you talking to?" He came over and glanced down. Then he snorted. "Oh, him. The master talks to him, too. What's the point, he can't talk back."

"That makes him a better conversationalist than you," Ratchet informed him. The guard went back to his place for what Ratchet suspected was a nap. 'Sam' did not come from the wall until the door closed behind him. "I trust him about that much, too," the medic said to the pet.

Sam nodded and went to get something. Ratchet recognized the device as a laptop computer. Sam climbed into the berth and worked on it for a time. Then he got Ratchet's attention and pointed to the screen.

_If you can read this, make a comment about the game_, Ratchet read. Sam pulled a game up and played it for a time. "All the time I spend in space and you little guys still play those mindless trivial games," the medic commented. Sam shot him a solemn glance. Then he minimized the game and started typing.

_Ratchet, don't give away that I can talk/write to you. Megatron knows that I read, but he never thought to have me write anything. I don't know if it's because he doesn't read human languages or he just never thought of it. If you have questions, ask as if you're talking to yourself or talking to me like I can't understand you or talk back. _

"I have to wonder what's going on with the humans left now," Ratchet said speculatively. "For sure those glitches who watch me keep me from hearing anything, so it must be bad."

Sam typed for some time. Ratchet settled himself on the berth comfortably and curled a hand around the human to lean against. When he stopped, Ratchet leaned over.

_Bad is not the word for it. Humans are domestic animals. There are no families. They are born, taken from the mother, raised in a crèche, put to work as soon as they are capable, and bred like animals. Men and women are kept separate and only see the other sex when bred. Slaves work until they die. Children unable to work are 'culled.' No human culture is left, and any human found living 'wild' is hunted down immediately. _

It was an effort not to explode. Ratchet took some time to consider his next question. "I wonder how you got your position. I wouldn't think that Megatron would keep a human as a pet. The last I heard, he hated them and was planning genocide."

_On the genocide-they don't have enough metal for drones and self-repair, so they keep enough humans to do the work. _

"I have to say, your master did seem fond of you." Sam told him how he had been hunted down

_On my position- That's a tough one to explain. Please don't think I'm insane. I am Samuel James Witwicky. I did die in Optimus' hand. I've died a total of eight times, in all kinds of ways, and I keep coming back. Megatron and Soundwave figured it out. No one else knows. They've been trying to figure out what's going on with me, since I'm clueless. Since they figured out they can't kill me without losing sight of me, Megatron decided to keep me under his optic, and this is his way of doing it. I'm his sounding board and his companion-I guess pet is as good a word as any. He keeps me with him unless he's going someplace with humans. I've had no human contact since he put this collar on me. All humans have collars; it's their way of keeping us under control. _

"I guess I can understand what Hook meant; it's soothing that I can talk to you and know you can't tell anyone what I'm saying. Not to mention you can't argue. "

_Right. I'm kept a) on his desk or a nearby shelf, b)in the cage in his office, c) in my space in his quarters, except when he's there, at which time I can move around in there, d) being carried, or finally e) on my damned harness. I hate last one the most.I have more freedom in here with you than I do with him. Ratchet, tell me, are there humans in space? _Instead of replying, Ratchet made the 'yes' sign. Sam sighed and nodded. _Then at least there's some part of my race that has hope. _

"I have to say, you have patience, at least. The old Sam almost never did. And you seem to be able to disappear when you need to."

_Slaves learn not to be noticed. A slave who is noticed is often in pain. Just for the record, I always return looking like I did when I died the first time, except I have the white hair and no voice. Wonder why?_

Ratchet knew, but he had not intention of telling Sam until he knew how far he could trust Megatron's pet. They were sent to find the pieces of the All-Spark and where they were. Ratchet had the one in plain sight leaning against his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Once again, thank you for the reviews. They keep me working. This is a longer memory than normal, but I have not been able to find a way to shorten it to my satisfaction. Again, let me know what you think. **

**I do not own Transformers or I would be working on the third movie, not this fanfic. **

**Chapter Five**

Ratchet was sure now that this 'pet' was Sam Witwicky, and that Sam was a treasure trove of information. Sam asked about Bumblebee and the other Autobots very carefully, and Ratchet only answered that his friends in space must wonder how he was. Sam nodded, understanding that they were all alive.

Sam did not know where the All-Spark was but he knew there was a shard of it large and strong enough that it could revive Cybertronians most of the time, and that Megatron used it carefully.

The medic remembered in his briefing that they were to meet a 'sleeper' but had no idea who they were or how they were going to get to him. So he saw patients steadily and tried to keep his spirits up. Sam stayed out of his way and helped when he could. At night Sam talked to Ratchet through the computer, and Ratchet talked to the 'pet' as if he were using Sam as the sounding board Megatron did.

While the guards were clearly under instructions to keep information about humans from the medic, the comments patients made about Sam began to give Ratchet some proof of Sam's claims.

One patient said, "Now there's a waste, a young strong male not working. I could use him, even if he's flawed."

"Flawed?" Ratchet asked, putting up his tools.

"He can't talk, right?" At Ratchet's agreement, the patient went on, "A lot of the others I work with think flawed slaves should be culled, but you can find something they can do most of the time."

One of the guards said, "That one was feral when Lord Megatron and my unit hunted him down. It was pure luck the cassettes found that mine shaft he went in, or we'd have lost him. It's better that the master keeps him from the other humans. I thought they should have killed him, myself, but Soundwave said the master had a reason for keeping him around. You know how Soundwave is about the humans."

"You have to admit they're useful!"

"Yeah, but Soundwave doesn't like them, and if he says there's a reason to keep a human alive, there is one."

Razorclaw brought Sam supplies as ordered but wanted to examine him. Sam hid as soon as he saw the Decepticon. "Leave him alone," Ratchet said. "I can take care of anything he needs."

"Don't be such a crank," the head of the breeding system argued. "There's nothing wrong with him other than his voice, and if that's from some kind of accident, there's no reason not to breed him." Ratchet managed to get him evicted when the attempt got in the way of his work.

"I have to wonder what you think about being talked of like you're deaf instead of mute," he said to Sam. Sam shrugged as he glanced to see if a guard was watching. Then he signed his answer.

_They talk about slaves like that whether they can hear or not. We're domestic animals, remember? _What chilled Ratchet about the response was that it was not bitter or angry so much as sad and resigned. Sam was stating a fact. Ratchet got an inkling of just how bad the humans' situation was.

Sam felt much better knowing that there were humans in space who were part of the Alliance. They were colonizing a world, but Ratchet told Sam through sign language that they had not forgotten Earth. The problem was convincing the others in the Alliance that the effort was necessary.

Two nights later. Ratchet explained why they had not come back earlier. Sam was curled into his hand. "We had to deal with an old former Prime called the Fallen. He was once in this solar system. He used to command Megatron. The Fallen wanted to use your Sun to make energon and create a new set of Decepticon hatching s to fight for him. You remember that machine in the Pyramid that got blown to the Pits and back by the Egyptians? It held the machine that was supposed to do it, and the Fallen turned to another machine on another inhabited planet. That's what got the Psyches involved and the Alliance started. It was a tough fight, with a lot of casualties of all species." He snorted. "The Psyches are weaker physically than you, but they have mental abilities that are impressive. "

The Alliance, he explained, needed some kind of proof that there was a problem before they would intervene. "There've even been some noises about opening negotiations. It's part of why we came."

_Warn the Alliance when you can that the Decepticons have a pretender. A Cybertronian that looks and acts like people. I encountered one as a slave. He was very good at what he did. You'd know what to look for in another Cybertronian, but in a human? _

"I have to wonder why you're so scared of Razorclaw. He did bring you supplies, and he did seem pleasant."

_Razorclaw's a breeder, and he's seen me in another lifetime. I think he suspects something._

"Do you have children, I wonder?"

_No. Not that he didn't try.  
_

Since Sam got the computer, he spent most of his time away from Megatron recording his life and making observations on his life as a slave and how the Decepticons handled his kind. He opened that chapter of his life and let Ratchet read it, moving the pages when nudged. It was a time that Sam remembered well. It was his longest life as a slave. It also showed just how the Decepticons thought of their slaves.

"Who is that slave?" Razorclaw asked one of the supervisors. It was evening, and Razorclaw was on a visit for some high grade. All of the 'cons in the area knew where to get it. Shrapnel shared in order to keep the still going. The supervisor looked over and saw the white hair.

"That's Mute," he said. "He does the night care of the food animals, and cleans the buildings at night. He's done it since he's been here. Boss uses him for other things, too. For the boss's hobby." The supervisor snorted with laughter

"When's his rotation for stud?" Razorclaw wondered aloud. "I like the hair. Wonder if it'll breed true." Razorclaw was always looking for variety in the slaves. His favorite slave had red hair.

"No idea," the supervisor shrugged. "No, no, I remember now. He won't go on rotation. I remember seeing a note on one of the datapads once, when I picked up the wrong one. He got his name because he can't talk. Since he's not a good specimen, he won't be sent to breed."

"I don't remember examining him," Razorclaw mused. It occurred to the breeder that Shrapnel might have his own reason for keeping the slave around. Mute slaves could not be questioned, now could they? So Mute was the perfect slave to help with the still. "Does he hear?"

"Mute!" the supervisor shouted. The white-haired slave, who was cleaning the steps, looked over, and the supervisor made a gesture and held up two fingers. Mute dropped his cleaning tools and vanished into the building. Soon after he walked over slowly, carrying two full containers. The supervisor took both of them. Mute waited, eyes down. "Good boy. Back to work." Mute trotted off obediently, finished his task and went inside. Razorclaw started to relieve the supervisor of one the containers. "Hey, get your own. Don't ask Mute; he knows me, but not you, and he'll just let the boss know you're here. "

"Stingy," Razorclaw said without rancor, and followed the white-haired slave into the building. When he got in, the slave was against the wall, waiting for the unknown master to go by as a well trained slave should.

Mute was ahead of his work schedule today by good luck more than anything else. One of the farm hands got into some kind of minor trouble, and instead of beating him, the supervisor assigned him to clean the animal pens. .

"Mute, isn't it? Come here." Mute put aside his broom and did as ordered, keeping his eyes down. He could hear Shrapnel in the other room, and hoped the farm manager would come out to see who was there soon. He started as he felt a touch on his hair. "I'm not going to hurt you. Be still." Mute stood quietly as the robot played with his hair and wondered how the master had gotten drunk this early in the evening.

Strange, Razorclaw thought, used to seeing vermin in the hair of slaves, this one actually seems clean. I thought that slagger said that this one had to clean the animal pens, and he doesn't even stink. He put a finger under Mute's chin. "Look up, little one," he said, intrigued.

"Hey, let Mute alone so he can get his work done," Shrapnel growled from the door. "Go do your work out back, Mute." Mute slipped away. "What do you want?"

"Some of the good stuff," Razorclaw said, amused. Shrapnel waved him inside and poured him a container of the high grade. The breeder took a swallow. Shrapnel did make good high grade, and Razorclaw said so. "I don't remember seeing him before. Has he been here long?" Razorclaw was amazed that the room was not a mess. Rumor said that Shrapnel drank himself into recharge nightly.

Shrapnel shrugged. "Can't remember off hand. He won't go for stud, anyway; we got plenty of healthy males here without breeding a flawed one." He drank from his own container.

"I don't remember examining him." In theory, Razorclaw was supposed to examine all the male slaves before saying which would breed and which would not. Normally, he would have accepted Shrapnel's judgment, because the manager was right; there was no need to breed a flawed slave. At the same time, there was no way of knowing if a flaw was a matter of injury, which would not matter, or a core problem, which did.

Farm duty was the first rotation for young adolescent males. Male field slaves on the farms then rotated at stud duty to nearby breeder farms. Once a male stood stud duty, he was sent away from the farms to work in the nearby mines. Those who survived the mines were rotated to labor jobs. Less than half survived the mines.

"So? He's been like that since we got him. He's got no records, no way of knowing who his creators were, and it's not like you can ask him." He snorted at his own mild joke. "Why do you care, anyway? Like I said, we've got plenty of fine males you can breed."

"I like the hair. I'd like to see if it breeds true." Shrapnel looked at the breeder, who sipped his high grade and looked back. "Why do you care? You have bunches of slaves to take his place."

"Yeah. Noisy idiots, who bang around and keep me from working, and who whine and complain and slack off. I've got Mute trained to be quiet. He might not talk but he does good work. Working at night, he gets left alone," he added. "You know how a flawed slave gets picked on."

Razorclaw nodded; he considered culling flawed children a merciful necessity himself. "I'd just like to take a look at him," the breeder said.

"Later," Shrapnel said with finality, and walked Razorclaw out.

Mute could hear the two 'cons talking, but he could not hear exactly what they were saying. As he worked, he munched ripe wild grapes. When he had the work around the still done, he poured the tea he had brewing from wild spearmint leaves into a container he was allowed for drinking water and headed to do the cleaning in the other parts of the building. The still was located in wooded area behind the buildings.

Mute knew that because he could not talk, the farm slaves and the supervisors tended to think he was stupid and did not know that he had the shit job. Fat lot they knew. The animal manure might stink, and cleaning the pens took a while, but no one wanted to smell that where they worked. Mute was under orders to clean himself up before he went on to clean the buildings. That meant that Mute got a bath and got to clean his clothes pretty much nightly. He had two sets, one to wear while the other dried for the next day. No one knew he had two; most slaves wore one set of clothes until they fell off.

They thought he had a shit job dealing with the still and cleaning the buildings, because he did not get a chance to steal some extra food. Being caught stealing food earned the slave a beating, which limited it to when they could get away with it, but all of them did it. However, they would not know a wild edible food from a stump.

In his years as a resistance fighter, Sam learned a lot of edible plants, and he managed to scavenge quite a bit when he finished with his work. Sometimes he could find eggs, and the caches of nuts and such the squirrels or other animals had during the winter, and there was a walnut tree nearby. He was willing to bet he was the only slave on the farm who was never beaten for stealing food, while at the same time getting more to eat than anyone else.

By the time he had that work done, the tea was finished and he went to clean the main building again. He peeked to see if the new master was gone. Sure enough, he was, and Shrapnel was busy drinking his high grade and mumbling about what needed to be done and ordered.

When Shrapnel fell over, Mute took up the slack. He could read Cybertronian and program a datapad; Bee taught him the meaning of the glyphs over a boring winter snowed into the mountains of Canada the first year after the war began. He remembered snuggling against Bee's warmth and going over the datapad with him, Mikaela on the other side of the yellow bot.

Shrapnel knew what needed to be done most of the time, and Mute would simply put the information on the datapads for the supervisors, or complete the order, or finish the assignments. Sometimes Mute got really lucky and Shrapnel finished everything before he fell over, but that didn't happen often. The only change he made that was not finishing up after Shrapnel was when he set the datapad to send his name to the bottom of the stud rotation list due to his being mute and therefore an unacceptable specimen for breeding. He set it so that it automatically rotated to the bottom of the examination list. So far he managed to avoid examination.

The farm prospered, and no one cared how as long as it did. Since Mute did his work at night and early morning, no one realized how long he was there. Sometimes he lost sleep; he had to wait until Shrapnel was drunk enough to get to the datapads and finish up what the manager did not get done. He counted it a small price.

Tonight Shrapnel seemed pretty worked up about something, and he was working and mumbling away much later than usual. Mute got his work done as quietly as possible, checking on his master periodically. He was finished and about to put away the supplies when he heard Shrapnel say, "Finally finished!" Mute looked in, and Shrapnel saw him. "Let's look at your work, "the manager said, and staggered through the building with his mute slave. He checked the still as well. "Got to keep you up to spec," he informed his mute slave, who nodded and waited to be dismissed.

"Get on with you then," the master said, and Mute picked up his supplies quietly and went to put them away. When he went back to check, the manager was slumped over the desk as usual. Mute stacked the datapads up as usual, noting that the work was done on all of them, and turned off the light before heading for the kitchen. There was a fine crop of wild carrots he noticed today and he was looking forward to getting them tomorrow.

The kitchen was just stirring, and he got his mush hot before heading for the hayloft where he normally slept. Compared to the food he gathered, the mush was awful, but the gathered food was not nearly enough to keep him going.

He had a sleeping pad in the slave quarters, but he seldom slept there if he could help it. The hay might be scratchy, but it had less vermin. Sometimes he was joined by some of the cats that were ignored because of the mice they dealt with. Sometimes when he managed to find more gathered food than usual, he would share a little of his mush with them. Then he curled up near the window where the sun would keep him warn when it rose, but out of the way anyone who might come to get hay, and slept.

Razorclaw came at his normal time to examine the potential studs, and he did not see Mute among them. It was later than usual when he finished and asked about the white-haired slave, and the supervisor he spoke to said he would look into it, but never came back. Annoyed, the breeder slammed his kit together. He had no doubt that Shrapnel was keeping that slave out of his way.

He walked out of the back of the building and nearly ran into Mute. Seeing Razorclaw, Mute dropped his cleaning tools and disappeared inside the building. Further irritated, Razorclaw went after him, thinking he was hiding under Shrapnel's orders.

Seeing the master who looked at him before, Sam assumed he wanted some of Shrapnel's high grade and went to let his master know. He had finished the animal pens and cleaned up, and was getting ready to start cleaning the buildings. He found Shrapnel sitting at his desk and got his attention, making the gesture that mean a master he did not know was outside. "Good boy. Go do your cleaning, I'll take care of him," Shrapnel said. Sam turned and headed out, thinking of the roots he intended to eat tonight. Shrapnel was getting up to see who it was when Razorclaw came in.

Seeing Mute heading out the other door, Razorclaw put on a burst of speed and grabbed the departing human by the arm. "I've been looking for you. Come on," he said, and started off.

Why'd he come for more stuff if he's already drunk? Mute wondered when he was grabbed and hauled nearly off his feet. Fortunately Shrapnel was already up, and stepped in front of the robot. "Let go of Mute, Razorclaw," the farm manager said. "He's not allowed to fetch for anyone he doesn't know, and he already let me know you were here. " Figuring the matter was settled, Mute stepped away, pulling gently at the grip on his arm.

His arm nearly came out of its socket when Razorclaw pulled him back. "I said I wanted to examine him when I came to examine the others. I'm here, he's here, and I want to examine him!"

"Don't be an idiot, it's a waste of your time and his," Shrapnel said, taking Mute's other arm and pulling. "He's flawed! He's mute, and there's no reason to breed him!"

_Breed? _If Mute had known that, he would have been on the other side of that door before the strange robot appeared. He had no intention whatsoever of bringing a child into the hell that most humans in this world lived in. Right at this moment, though, he had more immediate problems. They were bruising him with their angry grips, and if they didn't stop hauling him around, they'd dislocate or break an arm soon.

Razorclaw yanked the slave back. "I'm the one who makes that decision," he shouted back. "And to make that decision, I need to examine him!" Then the poor bewildered slave whimpered, and they looked down at him. Realizing that he was hurting Mute, he let go at the same time that Shrapnel did. The slave took a step back to get a clear path to the door. "Oh no, you don't," Razorclaw said, picking him up and putting him on the desk. "Stay right there." Turning to Shrapnel, he said, "Look, just let me look him over. We might be arguing over nothing."

"That your kit?" Shrapnel snapped. At Razorclaw's nod, the manager cleared a space on the desk. "Fine then. Do it right here. I want to hear the results as you go. I won't get a full night's work out of him as it is, not after you almost yanked his arms out of their sockets. As soon as you know you were being a fool, get out."

Razorclaw snorted and turned to the frightened slave. He opened his kit and got to the exam. He was amazed at Sam's lack of vermin and smell, and said so. "Think I want to smell shit when he's cleaning?" Shrapnel said sourly. "He rinses off before he comes in to work." Finding Mute did not have vision problems, the breeder checked his hearing, and looked at his teeth. Then he looked under the slave collar, and saw the scar. He scanned the slave's throat.

Razorclaw had always been a fighter and a Decepticon, and he had seen and done vicious things as a warrior, so he was not precisely shocked by what he found, but he did wonder just why someone would do that. "What do you know about him before he was sent here?" he asked.

"Not a slagging thing," Shrapnel snapped. "The report said he was found in a patrol, still a youngling, no collar, mute and no way to question him. They thought he might have been abandoned because he couldn't talk. He got dropped off here since we're the central farm, no way he could get back to wilderness before we found him. No reason to think different than he got dumped because he was flawed."

"Well, someone or something took out his vocalizer. There's too much scar for it to be a birth defect. Looks deliberate, almost surgical." They looked at Mute, who was staring at the floor. "Not a pleasant memory, I would think," Razorclaw said and rubbed Mute's back gently.

"Take off the shirt." Mute started to, but Razorclaw did it for him when it was clear it hurt him to move his arms. The slave clenched his teeth as Razorclaw moved and scanned his arms. "You'll be sore for a few days and then fine," the breeder announced. Mute reflected bitterly it was easy for him to say a few days; his shoulders were stiff and he could see he was going to have two sets of quite prettily colored arms until the bruises began to fade.

The breeder went forward with his exam. Finally he told Mute to get dressed, which the slave did as fast as his hurt and aching arms would allow. Razorclaw was pleased with his assessment. This was a fine strong healthy slave, more than minimally intelligent, and with a good disposition, well exceeding the minimum breeding requirements.

Mute started looking for a way to climb down, and Razorclaw held him down. "I'm going to give you something for that pain," he said pleasantly. The slave looked at Shrapnel who waved permission. The breeder handed him a small bottle. "Get it down," he said, and when Mute tilted it to take a sip, the breeder tipped it to empty into the slave's mouth and held his chin up so that Mute swallowed automatically. Then he coughed and sputtered when Razorclaw let go. The taste was awful. "Give it a moment to work," Razorclaw advised, when Mute tried to get off the desk again. Mute obediently sat still, wishing he had something to take that vile taste away.

"Good. I'll just take him with me." Mute's head whipped up and he looked from the breeder to the farm manager, dismay clear on his face before he managed to wipe it blank and look at the floor. Razorclaw saw and wondered at it. Shouldn't a young male be excited at the chance to get to a female? Or did he not understand what breeding meant? Females and males were kept separated so that breeding was regulated; it was possible that Mute did not understand what they were discussing.

Shrapnel saw the look as well, and interpreted it correctly as the appeal it was. Not only was Shrapnel fond of the slave, Mute was trained, reliable, and wanted to stay in a position where he was not badgered. "He can go when the others do. That'll give me time to train a replacement. I need all the hands I can get until the harvest is in," Shrapnel argued. That would give him another month or so, and Razorclaw might forget about the mute slave by that time. Hearing a thump, he looked over and saw that Mute had slumped over onto the desk, sound asleep.

Razorclaw had no intention of going through this tangled mess again. He figured, correctly, that if he did not take Mute now, he would never see him again. As a result, the still sleeping Mute departed the farm an hour later, with the bargain that once Razorclaw had the mute slave for one breeding rotation, he would give Shrapnel a chance to fetch him before he was sent to the mines.

Author's note: I tried real, real hard to shorten this memory to one chapter and I could not do it; originally it was three!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**I do not own Transformers. Sigh. **

**Let me know how I'm doing!  
**

Ratchet noticed that Sam was nodding off, and sent him to sleep. He had trouble going into recharge himself. He remembered the massive adjustments the humans went through on the ship, dealing with space, and all the changes they made, but they had not endured anything compared to the humanity left on Earth. He talked about that a little to Sam, but the guards did not approve, and seeing Sam go into his slave mode made him desist. Pits, just watching that would convince most Autobots that something had to be done.

That night he read more.

Weeks later, Mute was standing in front of the breeder, staring at the floor and hoping that the breeder's frown was not going to translate into a beating. Harvest was over with the cold starting to set in, and the breeder had time to look over his records.

"Mute, I don't understand this," Razorclaw said, partly to the slave in front of him and partly to himself. "Not one of your females has caught." Mute hunched his shoulders and kept his gaze down, radiating shame. The breeder looked at his reports and then at Mute, wondering what the problem was.

It was not that Mute was not doing his duty. All the breeding stalls had video, and the videos were monitored by Razorclaw's staff as a rotating duty. Some of the males got violent, and some needed training before they performed adequately. Most of the staff considered the duty boring, but they were maneuvering to get duty on Mute's nights. Razorclaw found out why when he came in once to check general performance, and wound up staying to watch, intrigued. Mute made all the right connections, but the preliminaries showed he had quite an imagination, and he liked to cuddle afterward. No wonder the females loved him.

Normally, that would mean that he would have started quite a few offspring by now. He was by far the favorite for the high count this season. Instead, there was a lot of disappointment, not least among the females he was supposed to be breeding. Some of them cried when they found out that they did not have a child by Mute.

By this time, Razorclaw wanted Mute to breed for more than his hair. Not only was he a strong male with an excellent disposition; observation showed he was quite intelligent. He did not skimp on his work, but he found ways to save time and make his work easier. When he was put to work in the kitchen, he organized the supply room to make everything easier to find. The breeding schedule was a color based system, and when Razorclaw saw Mute examining it, he realized that the slave had figured out who the colors belonged to and how they were organized.

It was possible that Mute was infertile but Razorclaw did not want to accept that as fact yet. He sighed and motioned Mute over. "Let's look you over," he said. "Maybe we can figure out the problem."

Some time later Mute was dismissed from the office. On the one hand, he was glad to have escaped a beating; Razorclaw was satisfied that he was 'doing his duty'. On the other hand, the breeder was trying to figure out the problem, and Mute was afraid Razorclaw would do exactly that, at which time Sam knew he would be in for some serious trouble.

During his years in the resistance, Sam learned how to have sex without making babies. During long cold winters before and after Mikaela, he also learned how to make a woman happy in bed. He knew from the woman's talk that sometimes the masters watched to be sure the females were not being abused, so he was careful to cover what he was doing.

Strangely enough, the women themselves kept him going. They were grateful to have a considerate lover who took the time to pleasure them, and to cuddle them afterward. Otherwise he was sure one of them would have noticed what he was doing. More than once he felt like dirt when a girl came crying to him because she had not caught, and lately all of them were giving him anxious looks. They knew that there had been no results.

Faking shame for his infertility was easy. Mute got depressed whenever he thought about the next rotation, which was the mines- hard, grinding labor. At the same time, he would not bring any children into this world where human life was misery.

One of the cleaning fluids was wood alcohol; he kept some where it was easy to get to. He was fairly sure that if he timed it right, he could manage a relative painless death. He was certain that Razorclaw would make his defiant slave wish he was dead before he died, if the breeder ever figured out what he was doing and that he was doing it deliberately. The breeder was smart even for a Cybertronian, and mild for a Decepticon, but he was still a Decepticon.

Razorclaw sighed. He had found nothing wrong with Mute. He heard a whisper of sound, and looked down to see his favorite slave peeking out of the door as well. "Hello, sweet," he greeted her. She looked up at him and smiled her sweet smile. He bent down and picked her up to stroke her lovely red hair and soft white skin. She had lost her last child in a stillbirth years ago, and he promised her she would not have to breed again until she was ready.

"Is that the one that all the other girls talk about?" she asked. "The kind one?"

"Yes," he said, walking back in the office with her. "He's just had his evaluation, sweet, and while I can't find anything wrong, he's not producing. "

"No babies?" she asked. He nodded. She considered that. "He's pleasing," she admitted.

"I like his hair, but it's not as pretty as yours," he said, sitting and putting her in his lap. She lay back against him.

"Can I have him for a little bit?" she asked. He considered. "I'll breed for him. I don't think he'd mind. Not if the other girls are right. They say he likes new things."

"So I hear," he said. "Well, sweet, it can't hurt. Maybe with you we can figure out what's wrong. And you're right, he seems to like to experiment. I don't think he'll mind."

Two days later Razorclaw summoned Mute from the supply room where he worked. It was late in the afternoon, but not yet time for the evening meal. In the office the slave stopped in front of the desk, eyes down. "Around here," the breeder said, and motioned Mute to his chair. There was a cup on the desk that Sam estimated held about a pint, and Razorclaw handed it to him. "Drink that, you're going to miss your evening refuel." Certain now that he was about to be shipped off, Sam took a cautious sip before starting to drink. It was some kind of pureed soup, thick, warm and good. Sam savored it; so little food they got tasted good.

Halfway through, he realized he was feeling odd, and stopped to look up at the robot watching him. Razorclaw turned him around, took the cup and put it on the desk, pulled Sam into his lap, and put the cup back in his hand. "Finish up, now," he coaxed, and Sam obeyed. When he finished the last swallow, he lowered the cup and almost dropped it. He knew he was slumped back against the master. In the back of his head, he knew something was wrong, but he could not bring himself to care. "Good boy," the breeder crooned, "looks like you're nice and relaxed. Come along." He stood Mute up and guided him through a door on the other side of the office.

Some time later, Mute came out of his drugged haze because something went around his stomach. He could not sit up. Then he heard the noise that sounded vaguely familiar, and frightening, and found that that both his arms and legs were chained. That jolted him further into reality. He was lying on something soft. He was naked except for his restraints.

He tried to remember what was going on. He remembered being told to void, and complying. He remembered being undressed and guided into a warm shower, and getting soap. He remembered he was somewhat unsteady, so he sat down to scrub and wash his hair. When told to rinse off, he had, though he did not want to leave the warm spray. Then he was picked up and dried while being carried here and laid down.

Now that his mind was clearing somewhat, Mute tried to figure out what was going on. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. He tested the length of his chains.

"Don't you look good," a feminine voice purred.

He turned his head. Then he pushed up onto his elbows and stared. The woman standing over him was any man's vision of heaven. She had curly red hair that cascaded down to her hips. She had lovely large green eyes, set in an angelic face of pale white skin, a tiny perfect nose and a smile full of small white teeth. She had a slightly rounded face, and an adorable pointed chin. She wore a robe that hung open. Her only resemblance to Mikaela was her body shape, which was rounded and pleasing. He estimated that she was about his height. He lifted his eyes back to her face to see she was giving him the same pleased assessment that he had given her.

She went to her knees beside him and reached up to stroke his hair. "Your hair is like mine," she said. He looked at her hair and gave her raised eyebrows. She laughed again. "It's different that the others," she elaborated. He nodded. She pushed down his collar and looked at the scar underneath it. He let his head fall back, and then lay back because that position made his head swim. He held up his wrists, wondering at the chains.

"I can't take off the chains. I need them." He gave her a questioning look. "A long time ago, three men held me down and took turns." She noted his outraged look. "My master stopped them. Their punishment was this." She indicated the chains. "He let me do whatever I wanted to them. After that, I've needed this."

She smiled at the look on his face. "I don't need hurt, Mute." She brushed her fingers over the scar on his neck. "It's another way we're the same. We've both been hurt where it doesn't show." She trailed a finger down his chest, past the tight stomach, and further. His body responded. She drew closer. "The other females say you're different," she murmured, moving her hand to his knee and tracing it upward. "They say you like to play, that you know how to make them feel good."

He nodded, cautiously. "So I'm going to play, "she said, sliding to lie on her side against him. He raised his arm to run his hand over her back, moving slowly. She jumped a little, and he lifted his hand. "Go ahead," she murmured against his ear, and her hands resumed their feather-light stroking.

In the many encounters he had at the breeding facility, he was always in control, no matter how experienced the females were. This time, she was in control of the entire experience, and she made sure he knew that.

The feel of a metal finger stroking her back woke her. She looked up at Razorclaw, and carefully moved away from her sleeping lover. Putting on her robe, she watched her master undo the locks. Mute did not move, and she giggled behind her hands. "Wore him out, did you," the breeder said fondly. At the sound of the master's voice, Mute woke, jolting upright and almost falling over. Razorclaw steadied him before handing him his clothes. Mute dressed and stood up. The breeder picked both of them up and took Mute to the kitchen, telling him to get to his sleeping pad. Mute nodded and headed off.

Back in his office, Razorclaw set her on his desk and said, "I think you enjoyed yourself, sweet. Did he mind?" She shook her head, smiling. "Do you think you found the problem?"

She laughed into her hands and nodded, telling him. "Do you want him again?" he asked, and received a beaming smile in answer. "All right then, you train him in what he needs to do. If you catch, then we'll keep him another rotation. I do want some offspring from him."

The next night, and every other night for about two weeks, Mute went back to Red. On the last night they spent together, she trailed her hands down to his neck. "I want your baby. I want a white-haired boy or red-headed girl who's as smart and sweet as you. Master says if I catch this time, he'll let me keep it. But to get a girl to catch, " she talked a little longer, earnestly instructing him in what he was doing wrong. At the look on his face as she went on, she said, "You didn't know, Mute."

Damnation, he thought, despair running through him as she stroked his face and tried to make him feel better. She was probably pregnant. Two good things, he thought; she's the only one I'm leaving pregnant, and they don't know I was acting deliberately. Besides, she said she could keep it; at least the baby will have a chance for a slightly better life. He knew that the current set of studs was scheduled to be transferred the day after tomorrow, and he assumed he was one of them.

After breakfast he headed for the supply room as usual. His supervisor called him aside and took him to a storeroom. The place was an absolute mess. "Clean it up," the supervisor instructed. Mute looked the room over and got to work. It took him all day, and according to his stomach it was close to dinnertime when he was down to sweeping the floor, everything in some kind of order and cleaned. He heard footsteps and kept working, assuming it was his supervisor checking on him. Then a large, warm metal hand fell on his shoulder.

"Listen closely, Mute," Razorclaw said softly. "I've been a breeder for a long time, several generations of humans long. I remember when feral humans were common. They tended to be reluctant to breed." Sam waited, afraid to look up and tensed for the whip he was certain was coming. "Now, Red believes that you did not know what you were doing wrong. I have no reason to doubt that. Yet. So, I am keeping you for another cycle."

The hand on his shoulder gripped a little more firmly. "I want children from you. I want the combination of your strength and intelligence. Don't defy me in this, Mute. Unless you want to go to the mines with a beating and a report that you're a troublemaker." Sam shivered involuntarily. "I see you understand me. If you perform as needed, and I have a reasonable result, then I'll either let you go back to Shrapnel or I'll keep you here to help raise Red's child by you, depending." The pressure on his shoulder eased. "And understand that I am watching you."

Sam nodded. "Finish up and I'll walk you to the kitchen," Razorclaw said pleasantly. Sam obeyed, moving numbly. When they reached the kitchen, the breeder commanded, "Look at me." Sam looked up into red optics. "You are rare, Mute. As rare and valuable as my Red, and I want more of you. "A gentle finger stroked over his hair and under his chin. "I can make your life a lot easier, my wise one. Don't force me to destroy you. Now go eat.

That night Sam lay sleepless on his pad, his mind running in circles. Razorclaw did know humans very well. If he was only Mute, he would be willing to do anything the breeder wanted, to keep being told he was special, after being the 'flawed' one that was he was not just Mute, a flawed slave; he was Sam. Razorclaw was observant and interested in him now. What would he do if he noticed something else different besides his intelligence and lack of background?

After a night with no sleep at all, he was one of the first up, his decision made. He ate automatically and went to the storeroom as normal. Then he discovered that his bottle of wood alcohol was not in the place he left it. He sighed and rubbed his head. "There you are," his supervisor said, coming in the room. "Come show me what you did yesterday." Sam went with him to the storeroom and showed him how it was organized, earning a nod of approval. "Good. Oh, and I found a bottle of some of the cleaning stuff sitting around. Keep it in the closet and don't take it out without permission, hear me? Some of the other studs drank the stuff and got sick. " Sam nodded, his heart leaden.

Somehow, somehow he had to get out of this trap he saw closing around him, without going through either hell he foresaw he would endure. If it was a quick death he was facing, or one relatively unknown, he might be able to find his courage. But the mines-he had been there before, and that was a fate he cringed from. His only other way out was out of reach now. He just did not know what to do, not even with more than a century's experience behind him.

The next day, Mute was sent for and kept in the kitchen, looking through and organizing the cabinets. He thought that his supervisor was taking it a little far, when the whispers told him why he was being separated. The other studs were taking taken out, new ones brought in. The confirmed pregnancies were being moved to a nursery farm, and a new set of girls coming in. Sure enough, that afternoon, his supervisor called him out to meet the new set of studs. The supervisor explained the routine while using Mute to demonstrate at times.

Mute, listening through the lectures again, looked at the young men here, who had given anywhere between ten and fifteen years of their lives to the farm, and after a month or so here, would go on to the mines. Maybe half of them would survive to go on to other work. The women worked the farms and bore children until they died. He was going to bring children into this endless, mindless cycle? He had to figure something out.

But Mute found that someone was checking on him several times at day at different intervals, and he got nowhere, finding himself back in the breeding stalls. Then he found he was assigned a girl about sixteen, a frightened virgin. When he took the time to calm her, and gave her a chance to get used to his touch by gently rubbing her back and shoulders, she relaxed enough to blurt out that if she didn't do it right, she'd be lashed.

Mute closed his eyes and cursed Razorclaw in several dead languages. The breeder had guessed that while his stud might get up the courage to defy the masters and take the beating, he would not subject an innocent to that kind of punishment. Then he gently introduced the frightened child to the pleasure sex could be, and made sure she would not be punished for something she could not hope to understand at this point.

Worse, all of them were the same, young frightened virgins. After the first girl talked with relief about her experience, the rest came to him with hopeful, trusting faces, and he could not resist that appeal. They bloomed from the small amount of kindness he gave them, and that eased his despair when one at a time they came to him, Red first, to tell him that they caught. In the face of their happiness, he managed to smile and pretend to be glad.

He found out there was a pool on what his results would be with the supervisors, and the winners were smug. Razorclaw told Red that she could keep her baby, and that he might keep Mute with them for a time, but not to tell Mute yet. She glowed with happiness. Mute noticed Razorclaw looking at him thoughtfully, and did his best to stay out of the breeder's way.

It was a distinct relief to go off rotation. It was deep winter now, and the supervisors cursed sometimes when they had to deal with ice and snow. The water cistern that served the kitchen tended to freeze, and Mute got into the habit of bringing in a bucket of water overnight to begin the cleaning with. He would add wood alcohol to the outside buckets of cleaning water to keep them from freezing, and showed the supervisor why when asked.

It was a cold afternoon when he found one of the girls he had serviced bent over and moaning. He went to get her help, and found several of the other kitchen girls having stomach pains as well. He found Red who went to her master immediately, while Mute gulped water and wondered why it tasted funny.

By that evening, all the kitchen girls were sick, and Mute was not feeling so swift himself. He kept drinking the water in the kitchen as he and Red tended to the ones who were sick and Razorclaw tried to figure out what was wrong. Dinner was late, and worry ran through the breeding farm. Razorclaw had Red and Mute start boiling the water and adding some chemicals to it to stop the vomiting, and the girls started to recover a little.

But it was too late; the girls started losing babies. All of the girls in the kitchen who got sick lost the children, and all of Mute's girls were in the kitchen. To top everything, Red lost her child. He found Mute comforting her while trying to hide his own tears. Unable to eat, Mute kept drinking unboiled water, ignoring the taste, so he could care for the girls.

The next day, Mute was sick, and he rapidly became worse than the girls. Razorclaw was frantic. He checked everything in the kitchen before noticing the water had a faint odor. He had the cistern dumped and refilled with clean water. When one of the supervisors suggested putting the wood alcohol in to prevent freezing, Razorclaw knew what the problem was. He headed inside to get the antidote, only to find that Mute was dead.

In the infirmary, Sam closed his eyes, remembering. It was the easiest life he had as a slave, and was by far the easiest death. Neither Shrapnel nor Razorclaw were abusive or allowed their subordinates to be abusive to their charges. At the same time, that life was the life of a domestic animal. The slaves worked, bred, slept and ate at the direction of a master, and he could see no escape in sight for any of them. It did help to know there was hope in space but this was their home world. He was afraid to ask Ratchet if help was coming. He was grateful that Ratchet did not reject him for cooperating with Megatron.

Ratchet read, and the more he read, the more ill he felt. This was the Decepticon way of thinking in action, and he wanted to purge. Somehow he had to get this and Sam to the Alliance Council.

"I wonder where Megatron was going, to leave you with me like that."

_It has something to do with the Alliance. He's sure he's strong enough to get them to back off. He said something about negotiations. I hope there's someone to see through his games there, or he's going to play with them like he played with the governments here._

Ratchet signed his answer. **The Alliance is wary of Decepticons after the Fallen. **

_ You know what Megatron said when he took me to see the last remaining base torn down and put the collar on? He told me that I was exiled from my own kind because I lived free, and that I would be his reminder of what humans could be and would never be again. I never forget that I'm a toy, and I hate it. If I get out of line, the collar has the means to shock me, and there's a beacon built into it. So if you get a chance to get out, Ratchet, leave me behind and try to bring some help, unless you can get the collar off. _

Ratchet had no intention of leaving Sam behind; they needed him. He was sure he could get the collar off if they could get away from the guards.

Where was the sleeper?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**I do not own Transformers or I would be rich. **

**Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. Please let me know how I am doing. Some action coming up. **

Patients came and went. Shrapnel came in, and commented on how much the master's human looked like a slave he had once, named Mute. "He was a good one," the farm manager said, as Ratchet worked on his foot.

Ratchet made an 'hmmf' sound. "What happened to this?" he pointed at the foot. Shrapnel looked embarrassed. "There was an accident at the farm I run," he said.

"That so," Ratchet said skeptically; this was an old burn, and a bad one. "This is going to hurt. Talk about something." Shrapnel talked, and Ratchet got the work done as fast as he could.

"I saved Mute from a beating he didn't deserve, and had him come to work with the- on something private. He was the best slave I ever had work around me. He was grateful for the rescue, and he showed it. That's always the problem with the flawed ones, you have to look after them or the other slaves can get mean."

Well, well, well, here was confirmation of one of Sam's lives. Ratchet finally finished, thinking that Sam's muteness was more of a burden than he would have thought. He sent a glimpse over to the door. The guards were out of sight. "You used to keep a still for high grade," he said. Behind Shrapnel he could see Sam nodding.

Shrapnel sent a glance where Ratchet had. "The new slave I had after Razorclaw took Mute for breeding did something, I never found out what, and blew the damned thing up one night," he admitted. "I've been off the stuff ever since. I got there just in time to keep the whole damned place from going up. That's how I got the burn."

_Shrapnel was okay_, Sam wrote that night. _Most of his supervisors were okay. The ones who took me captive were even decent. As long, of course, as a slave knew his place. _

Ratchet considered that statement. In other words, he mused, as long as the inferior beings accepted that they were inferior, and did not protest or make trouble about it, the Decepticons in charge of them could be 'decent'. He thought that Sam's concept of 'decent' was pretty loose.

There were others who remembered a slave that looked like Sam. A construction engineer said, "You know, I had one that looked like him."He winced as Ratchet replaced his back plates. "He worked with me, doing the wiring. He was a good worker. Then I had an apprentice sent to me who had a bad temper, and he blamed Quiet when the system didn't work and hit him. When Quiet didn't yell or scream, he kept hitting him. By the time I got there, the poor slave was dying. I had that glitch sent to the asteroids. I heard he got killed in an accident when he made another stupid mistake, and the shard didn't revive him. Guess it knew a waste of space when it encountered one."

When a 'bad' supervisor was one that beat a slave to death due to a bad temper was Sam's basis of comparison, Ratchet could see that a supervisor that was fair might be considered 'decent'.

One patient that remembered Sam was the supervisor of a plant, who had a mangled hand. "Bad luck," he grumbled, "I fell into one of the machines. That fellow looks like a slave I had once on the saws. White was a bright one. Only lost a part of two fingers in ten years on the saws." Considering all the training that Sam had in handling dangerous weaponry, Ratchet could understand that he would learn quickly how to handle dangerous machinery. "Then he made one bad move and off goes a part of the arm. I had to do a mercy kill. I hate those."

That was how Ratchet learned that slaves had almost no medical care at all. "I wonder what happens when one of you gets sick," Ratchet asked. Sam shrugged and signed, _It depended on the supervisor. Razorclaw made an effort. Most made you work unless you collapsed, then waited to see if you survived it. Most slaves died._

One night while Sam was asleep, Ratchet figured out how to access and download the rest of the document Sam was working on directly from the computer, and went over it at his leisure. Afterward, he wondered how Sam was still sane. He had enough proof now from his patients that Sam was telling the truth.

Strangely enough, the fact that Sam somehow absorbed the All-Spark, or got claimed by it, or whatever the Pits happened to him, explained why Cybertronians gravitated to him. Ratchet always suspected that Bumblebee and Sam had a bond, and all of the first contacts were protective of the youth who tried and (they thought) almost died trying to protect the Cube. Primus knew the boy had mourned Optimus as much as any of them.

Considering how close the resistance came to pushing the Decepticons off while they were dealing with the Fallen, Ratchet felt guilty. They should have pursued Megatron here and cleaned the whole mess out. Then he reminded himself that they thought they had finished the Decepticon threat, until Bumblebee came to see how Earth had fared and came back telling not only how he had been driven off, but with the message of the sleeper about Earth's total defeat and subjugation.

The Autobots and humans worked hard with the Psyches and several other species to hammer out the formal Alliance. The argument was on now to decide to leave Megatron alone, discuss diplomacy, or take military action. After the death of the Fallen, Megatron was holding on to this area of space like grim death. It was the last Decepticon base, but Megatron was nothing if not resourceful, and he did have the shard to revive his fallen troops most of the time. From what Sam said, the Decepticon leader was set to start causing trouble again.

Now he looked at Sam, with the youth's body and the haunted eyes that had seen too much death, too much pain, and no hope for too long, and knew that he had the perfect argument to prove to the Council that there would be no peaceful answer. He had to get Sam to Rodimus Prime.

Ratchet was taking a break and sipping energon while Sam ate something when Jetfire stomped in. Sam actually smiled when he saw the old Seeker. He signed Ratchet that Jetfire gave him the computer and the music player.

"Finish that, you don't eat enough," Ratchet told him. Sam snorted and swallowed the rest of his meal. The way he ate told Ratchet that eating was a chore, not a pleasure. Ratchet finished his own energon and stood to deal with his next patient.

"You still have those toys I gave you, child?" Jetfire rumbled. Sam nodded and started to climb down. Ratchet caught him and put him on the ground. Ratchet gave the old Seeker an exam while Sam found the 'toys' and waited patiently. The medic did what he could. Most of the old Seeker's problems needed more material that he could give one patient. Jetfire grumped and growled and complained until Ratchet finished, then turned his attention to Sam. "Still working? Show me." He pulled Sam onto his leg, before he yelped in seeming pain. Ratchet steadied them before noticing that the old Seeker had a strong grip on the medic and the human.

The next thing he knew all of them were elsewhere. He and Jetfire were on the ground. He looked for Sam, who was clutched in Jetfire's hands. The Seeker put Sam and his toys down and shooed him away so he could stand.

Sam turned in a circle, shivering. How the hell had they ended up in Canada? This was close to where Jetfire's archive was. He breathed in the fresh air and heard Ratchet ask the question that he wanted to ask himself.

"How the hell did we get here?"

Jetfire was frantically working to get the restraints off of Ratchet. "Space warp, you slagged nitwit! Is the Fallen dead?"

"Yes!"

"Good! " The old Seeker grabbed Sam's collar and yanked it off, almost breaking Sam's neck in the process. Sam snatched it up and feverishly yanked wires and other circuitry off the collar. "Good lad! Get that computer and come on!"

"Don't throw it away!" Ratchet yelped, catching the collar as it flew from Sam's hand. "That's evidence, we need it!" Then Jetfire grabbed both of them again.

They were somewhere else, this time hot. Sam felt so free, without the weight of the collar on his neck. "Petra." Jetfire said shortly. "We need to find the Matrix of Leadership, and it's somewhere around here. Rodimus sent me a riddle, and I got that far, but that's all I know, I'm hoping that-"He broke off. Sam was already investigating a crack in the ancient ruins.

He emerged not long afterward with a gloriously curved and filigreed piece of metal, carrying it and the computer awkwardly. The metal glowed. When Jetfire went to take the metal, Sam stepped back, shaking his head, and gave the computer to Ratchet. "They told me I have to give to a Prime," he signed, and tucked it into his waistband before taking the computer back.

"What?" Jetfire demanded, and Ratchet translated. "Who told you? Never mind that, no time. Com your ship, fast, and get me coordinates, I'm good for one more and then I'll have to recharge. We don't dare wait long. Soundwave was planning to take the young one here when I came in. He wanted me to record something for him; that's why I got the time with you when I did, he arranged it."

Sam shivered despite the heat. Ratchet came over, and suddenly they were elsewhere again. Sam wheezed, only to be grabbed and have a mask held to his face. He grabbed the mask himself and was unceremoniously hauled through a door.

"You can take the mask off now." Sam did and took a deep breath. "I've gotta go, Ratchet and that other 'bot said we need to get moving asap. Later!" He got a quick glimpse of red jumpsuit, oxygen tank, and black hair as the talker exited the door and left Sam to his own devices. Sam took a deep breath and looked around. He felt a sway and jolt. A voice came through the intercom.

"The Hatchet tells me you haven't been in space before. He also said you just recently ate. Do me a favor and lie down on the bed and put that basin you see close by. You might need it. Try not to panic and throw up all over my bed, OK? Now, if I put on an alarm, press the button on the wall there. The safety restraints will come over you and keep you from being thrown around. Okay?"

Sam hastily secured the computer in a drawer and turned the lock before getting on the bed and finding the basin. He was certain that the ship was not going to be able to just leave. He was correct. The alarm went off within an hour.

With all the movement that happened afterward, Sam did have to use the basin, but managed not to soil the bed.

Soundwave, waiting for his daily contact from Megatron, idly looked over the information he recently had from the master. Their spy had made a report and Megatron relayed it, complaining that it made no sense to him. Soundwave sent his own information, that the medic was working steadily, and that his pet was thriving but there was no sign that he could communicate any better with Ratchet than with them, and that Ratchet had given no sign that Sam was anything more than Megatron's human pet.

The Alliance contacted Megatron to protest the taking of the medic Ratchet and to demand his return. There was quite a bit of chaos as security was tightened everywhere. Several probes were taking place at once, keeping the troops already in space busy, and there were several arrangements being made to reinforce the stations. Megatron was busy inspecting the outer defenses and throwing accusations.

Soundwave looked over the information the spy sent. Rodimus Prime had some kind of vision that told him that there was an ancient artifact on Earth that needed to be returned for Rodimus to gain his full status as a Prime, and that the All-Spark was in pieces. Both the pieces were on Earth, one was known and the other unknown but in plain sight and in danger of being discovered. Soundwave mused on that idea. The All-Spark was a powerful artifact; the shard they had was strong. Soundwave did not know how part of it could be hidden at all, much less in plain sight.

Soundwave considered the situation dispassionately. How strange, two mysteries to deal with. Neither he nor Megatron ever discovered more about the human's ability to resurrect. They considered killing him and seeing how he returned, but when they mapped where he was discovered each time, they found there was no way to know where he would return. Losing sight of him was not an option.

In the interim, the human went from being a prisoner to being Megatron's pet, an utterly safe confidant and sounding board. Soundwave did not approve, but he remained silent. By that time his research indicated that close interaction with this human had that effect. Even his creations felt his appeal; they wanted to play with the human when they accompanied him to see the master.

Soundwave looked over his information again, something nagging at his processor. The first death occurred when Sam was knocked off the building and fell into Optimus's hand. Optimus then placed the hand, with the Cube and the boy's body-

Wait a moment- Optimus put the Cube in his spark while the boy's body was still in his hand.

One piece of the All-Spark was hiding in plain sight, and it seemed, had been for two vorns, submerged in the boy. That fact would explain the reaction of Megatron and the other supervisors to the boy, not to mention his cassettes. It would explain the boy's inability to die. It would certainly explain why the power could not be sensed.

This called for action; if the pet had part of the All-Spark, he must be exposed to the current shard to see if it could be completed. With the All-Spark complete, they could destroy the remaining Autobots and deal with the other species in the Alliance as the inferior races they were.

The archivist was the ideal witness for the situation, until Lord Megatron could return. He sent an urgent message to his master to return as soon as possible and the actions he was taking. Megatron agreed to have the pet isolated and the archivist brought to witness. He wanted the rest held until he arrived. He would leave immediately.

Jetfire was due to be seen by the medic; Soundwave timed his arrival to be when the archivist would be there to witness Soundwave taking the pet into his custody and to be briefed. He was on his way when he got the message. He got to the med bay to find the guards in a state of panic. From their descriptions, he recognized the space bridge.

He was not aware the archivist had that ability, and he was certain that the master did not know either. Nor did he know Jetfire was a traitor. He tried locating the collar, to discover that it was disabled. He dispatched troops to Jetfire's archive and alerted the space stations, only to find that all of them were engaged in investigating probes. He had to find other means to look for a fleeing ship close to orbit.

By that time the ship had its precious cargo loaded and was past the stations, moving fast. The type of ship meant that if they did not corner it fast, it would be too far ahead to catch and difficult to follow. He put the order out, only to find all the stations were blocked. By the time anyone could get out to go after the ship, it was accelerating out of the solar system, and the probes attacking the stations disengaged, gathered, and retreated in good order, protecting the ship. Megatron was on the other side of the solar system and the ship would be long gone before he could be contacted.

Megatron would not be happy when he arrived.

"We're clear," the ship's engineer heard. Willie blew out a sigh of relief. The engines had held up fine, but he absolutely hated the chance of battle. He checked everything again, and then headed to his cabin. Now that the excitement was over, he was absolutely electrified with curiosity about the really strange human the 'bots had brought with them. He was also glad of human company. He got on fine with the 'bots or he would never have been asked to do this mission, but even space brats needed human contact.

"Good news, brat," Sparkplug's voice came over the intercom. "Now that we're in space and clear, Ratchet and that new bot want to talk to our new human, so we're going to put air through the ship. "

"Good, we got a good scope of atmosphere when we went into the low Earth orbit, so we should be okay for the trip," he said. "Let me know when. I never got the guy's name."

"Sam. He can't talk, but he can hear just fine." So that was why he never responded to Willie's com. The engineer was too busy at the time to care. Willie cycled his door and went in to find the poor guy still penned to the bed.

"Pits, I never told you how to get out of the restraints, did I?' Willie did that for Sam, carefully picking up the basin as he tapped the right button. "Waste disposal is this way, and that includes ours." Sam nodded with a look of relief. The light went on as Willie opened the door and he demonstrated how to cycle the waste and how to use the device for human waste. Then he stepped back and let Sam do the same while the engineer sanitized his hands. Sam copied him. Willie shooed him out and reached for the stomach settler. "This'll help your stomach," he said, pouring out a dose and handing it to Sam.

Sam drank it and made a face. "I know, it's a little strong, but space makes a lot of people sick at first, you know? Hey, I'm Willie. I'm the ship's engineer. All deep space ships except the probes have a human engineer to get into the small spaces. "Sam nodded, listening intently. " Hey, you got a way to communicate? Sparkplug said you can't talk."

Sam lifted his neck and touched the white mark on it. Willie peered at it. "Injury?" he hazarded. "How come you don't have prosthesis?" Sam nodded and unlatched the drawer. He pulled out a flat black object and opened it, revealing keys and a screen. It lit up and went through several screens before Sam tapped keys. He looked at Willie and pointed at the screen.

_Can you read this? _Willie nodded enthusiastically. _Currently there is no way to get any kind of human prosthesis on Earth. Are most humans in space about your size? _

Willie looked up at Sam, who was half a foot taller than he.

"Yeah, I'm about average. You're pretty tall, aren't you?"

Sam looked down at the perky young man and could not resist smiling. Willie was about five foot six and plump, though not really fat. He had black hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a red jumpsuit tucked into boots, also red. His skin was a light tan. He was looking Sam over with evident curiosity. Sam wrote a few questions, and Willie responded with immediate goodwill, explaining about how the air on the ship worked.

_"_Since the bots don't need air all the time, when we're on a mission like this where there's only one human, only my room is aired and when I move around the ship, I attach the mask to my suit. That keeps me warm and breathing. Sparkplug is airing the ship now; he said Ratchet and that new bot need to talk to you. What's that thing?" He pointed to the metal artifact that Sam had on his belt.

_I have to give it to Rodimus Prime. It's important that he be the only one to touch it besides me_.

"Rodimus?" Willie was impressed. "Wow! "

"Okay, guys, ship's aired and warmed. You can come out now. Willie, bring Sam to the conference room before Ratchet blows a gasket." Willie snickered as Sam smiled, shook his head, and closed the computer to bring it with him.

It was a long walk to the conference room, and Willie talked the whole time. Sam learned that there were two groups of humans, loosely connected. One set was the colony on the new world, which they shared with another species that lived in that world's oceans. The rest of humanity lived in self-supporting space stations, working closely with the Autobots and with the Psyches.

The Psyches had their own home world, and humans did not go there often. "They can live in our air but we can't live in theirs for very long," Willie said. There were other sentient species, but they were much further out and were more allies than members of the Alliance. Trade had begun and was increasing.

By the time they got to the conference room, Sam understood where Willie got his exercise; the ship was built for Cybertronians. The conference room had a Cybertronian sized table, but it also had a staircase on one side, and when they reached the top, Sam found a human-sized table with comfortable chairs. He put his laptop on the table as Ratchet and Jetfire came over with a new bot in green and brown. "Sparkplug," Willie chirped. "Tell me we left those slaggers behind."

"Behind enough they can't shoot at us. Don't worry, the patrols have our backs. Sam, welcome to the _Scout. " _

Sam signed, and Ratchet translated, "He thanks you." Sam set up the computer, and Ratchet added, "Good idea. All of us read English. Sam, please tell us what happened when you went to get the Matrix." Sam typed.

_When I went into the crack, there were several Cybertronian forms circling the Matrix. They looked different from all of you. They were as tall as Jetfire, but thin. Then the whole place looked like it was full of mist, and Optimus was there with them. He told me that due to my sacrifice in trying to protect the Cube, that I earned the right to take the Matrix to Rodimus, but to only give it to him. And it told me that two halves must meet to be made whole. Then I was back outside with the Matrix. _

"Did the forms look like this? " Ratchet showed him a hologram. Sam nodded vigorously. "Will you show Sparkplug the Matrix?" Sam pulled it out of his waistband. Sparkplug studied it, and nodded.

"All right, youngster," Sam's eyebrows lifted briefly as he replaced the Matrix and he shot an amused glance at Ratchet, "I'll contact Rodimus and let him know that we're on the way with that and with you."

Sam paused and signed to Ratchet. Ratchet signed back. Then Sam typed, _I was Megatron's pet and a slave, and he is going to claim me back as his property. I am formally asking for protection from him and to not be returned. _

Sparkplug considered. "Willie, did you get a chance to look at that thing Ratchet gave you?"

Willie answered, "Yeah," and this time he did not sound happy. "When I reconstructed the wiring, it sent out a signal and the wires that were grounded in the metal, "he hesitated, "they could generate and carry a charge when stimulated. I- Sparkplug, what was that thing for? It bothered me." Sam circled his neck and pointed to the marks that were on his neck. "You wore that thing? But when it went off, it would have shocked you." Sam nodded and typed.

_That's what the collars are for. Mine was fancy, specially made for me on Megatron's order, because he wanted it clear that I was his personal property. Most were just steel. All the slave masters could send off the signals in those to control the slaves assigned to them. _

"And why were you a slave?" Sparkplug asked.

_I'm human. All humans on Earth are slaves. _

"Sad but true," Jetfire rumbled. "The last true feral human found was Sam here, and before that, I haven't heard of one for decades."

Willie looked from Sam to Ratchet to Jetfire in disbelief. "Wait just a damned minute here," he sputtered. "What's a slave? What's feral? "

"A slave is a sentient being who is the property of another sentient being," Ratchet said, his voice hard. "Feral means wild or untamed."

"You're talking about people? Human people, like me? Like if I went down there, I'd be a slave?" Willie's voice was almost a screech. Sparkplug looked a little stunned as well.

Sam sighed and signed to Ratchet, who signed something firmly back. Sam went to the computer and typed, _Willie, if you were ever to encounter a Decepticon (and I hope you never do) and you survived the encounter (which is unlikely) you would be a slave. They would put a collar around your neck and they would teach you your place. You would not enjoy the process._

"My place," Willie repeated, his voice full of rage by now.

"As in your place as an inferior being deferring to the master race of Decepticons," Jetfire informed him. "Nowadays, since all humans are born slaves, they learn from infanthood. However, back when feral humans were common, the experience involved a lot of pain and humiliation. Sam would know." Drawing himself up to his full height, Jetfire snapped, "Behave yourself, slave," in a harsh voice.

Sam's reaction was automatic. He stood still, head down and hands to his side. "Sorry, Sam," Jetfire said, and Sam relaxed out of the submissive posture. "On Earth, if he had not assumed that position immediately, Sam would have been beaten by the nearest slave master, no matter how lenient they normally were. That I needed to say anything at all would have likely marked him for punishment." Sam made a face at Jetfire, who snorted, but he could see from the stunned look on Willie and Sparkplug's face that the point was taken.

"You said that you were Megatron's pet," Sparkplug said. Willie started to sputter again. "Shut up, engineer. I need this clarified. Please define what you mean by that."

Sam typed, _I was living in the last uncompromised human base, in the foothills between Megatron's central administrative area and the mountains, when I was seen by a patrol and captured. Megatron was heading the search; it was a game to him and the others, a challenge. He decided it would be a further challenge to tame me, and so he claimed me for his own personal property. My clothes and collar reflect his ownership. _

"That's true, " Jetfire confirmed. "I was not there, but I got a hologram for the archives."

"One of the guards talked about Sam being feral," Ratchet said.

_He took me with him if he left the office except when he was going where there were other humans. If he left me behind, I was in a pen in his office or an electronic fence in his personal room. When we left the office, I wore a harness on a leash, though he usually had me ride his shoulder. I was safe to talk to, so he ranted to me and talked out his plans. _

"Hook said that," Ratchet confirmed. "He said that whatever Sam knew or heard, it might as well be in the language of the Primes, because he couldn't talk." He looked over at Jetfire. "Did you expect Sam to talk to Megatron through the computer?"

"Megatron can't read any of the human languages," Jetfire said. "He had me or Soundwave do that for him if he needed it. Pits, no slaves can read anymore; human culture on Earth is gone. Sam was the only one I ever saw read a human language book. I gave him the computer as a toy, but I hoped he would record his experiences in it as well. You did?" Sam nodded.

Sparkplug took a formal stance. Sam took a deep breath and let it go slowly. "You have that artifact that has to go to Rodimus, and I am under order to get you and it to him as soon as possible. For that reason, I have to offer you protection from Megatron and the Decepticons for the duration of the trip. Anything further will have to come from Rodimus himself."

Willie looked like he was about to explode, until Sparkplug added, "Now, just to let you know, there is no way in space any crew member on this ship would ever let you go back to that monster." That calmed the engineer. Sam's relief was obvious.

"The families are going to throw fits when they find out what's going on," Willie muttered. "Pits! We thought the real threat was over when we stopped the Fallen."

"In the meantime, Sam is coming to the med bay, so I can measure you for the voice prosthesis you desperately need," Ratchet said firmly, "and give the exam those atrocious guards wouldn't let me. " He went on to define his opinion of the guards in no uncertain terms, most of them profane.

For the first time, all of them saw a real smile on Sam's face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**To everyone who leaves reviews and alerts, thank you; you keep me going. **

**I do not own Transformers. Hasbro got there first. **

Sam was never alone on the ship. Ratchet kept him in the med bay for more than a day for the exam. Sam could tell he was looking for something. By the end of it, Ratchet told him that he was undernourished but otherwise all right. Sam asked what else he found, and Ratchet stonewalled him. Certain that the medic was not telling him something, he tried cursing, complaining, refusing to cooperate, pouting, and looking sad to pry the information out. Nothing worked. Ratchet was an old hand at ignoring cursing, complaining, and pouting.

Looking sad tended to get Sam fed. Ratchet had a cache of foods Sam remembered but had not tasted in literally more than a century. Sam tried not to be distracted but his taste buds won every time. Ratchet and Willie agreed that he needed to gain weight and they tended to try to feed him every few hours.

Megatron had not stinted him on food; in fact, the Decepticon leader complained at times that Sam was too thin and checked to make sure he had food supplies. At times he made Sam eat while he drank his own energon or did some kind of desk work. But before being taken, Sam was able to gather and hunt, and not only did was he able to have some choice in what he ate, but the work involved kept his appetite up. As Megatron's pet, exercise was sporadic and the food never changed; eating was a chore, and he was not used to eating much at a time.

Willie asked him if all slaves were starved. Sam made a face. He had endured lectures from supervisors before about eating enough and the effort that was put into making the food the best for stupid humans who did not know what was good for them. On the farm, the supervisors did not understand why slaves stole the farm produce to eat, when they got as much food as they needed (not wanted, but needed) at mealtime. Neither the urge for teen-aged boys to eat everything they could get, nor the desire for food that had taste, meant anything to them.

_No, it's not how much they feed you, most of the time. They know that if they want the slaves to work, they have to fuel them, so must of the time you got enough. Maybe not as much as you wanted, but enough to keep you healthy and working well. They even did all kinds of research, from what I understand. So the stuff is healthy and everything. _

"God in Heaven and Primus in the Matrix," Willie groaned. "Healthy. Did that translate into what it usually does when a bot says it?"

"I resent that," Ratchet said with dignity, but Sam could tell he was amused. Sam signed a reminder about the time Ratchet tried to make something 'healthy' for the resistance soldiers. Mikaela told him when he could program taste into his processors to try again. Not even the rats would eat it.

"You didn't have to eat the stuff you made. It made medicine taste good," Willie informed the medic. Sam grinned. "How bad was the healthy stuff the cons made?" Willie asked. Sam considered.

_You know that stuff we use to wash in? Have you gotten it in your mouth by mistake? _Willie nodded. _Not quite that bad, but close. _

"Pits, that's worse than the junk Ratchet made! No wonder you're so thin!"

Willie hauled Sam all over the ship with him, talking as they went. Sam did not mind. He absorbed Willie's chatter that ranged from the ship's engines to his family to the government structure of the Alliance. Sam was able to help with a lot of the basic work, leaving the engineer to work on his specialty. This division of work left Willie with enough free time to give Sam an education in current human/Alliance affairs. His knowledge was extensive; Willie was frighteningly intelligent and Sam was sure those kind eyes saw a lot more than most beings would give him credit for.

The probes came one at a time to the _Scout_, to have Willie look at the ships and Ratchet look at the soldiers. Willie took Sam with him to help with the repairs, which meant that by the time Rodimus Prime arrived, Sam met all the Autobots who fought to get Ratchet, Jetfire and him out. Sam would help Willie for a time, before being summoned to the bridge or conference room for a meeting with Jetfire and Sparkplug. The soldiers would relate what they saw, and Sam and Jetfire would expand on that information if they could.

The soldier saw humans working in the fields, clearing and building, and saw factories though they did not see inside them. They confirmed that all humans wore the collars and that all the slave masters had some kind of punishment device at all times. Far too often they saw them used. As a result, when they met Sam, they tended to treat him with cautious kindness, as if to prove to him that all Cybertronians were not like the Decepticons.

There were no human soldiers on this trip, and the Autobots admitted they were glad of that. "Pits, the squads I work with would have gone crazy, trying to get those guys out and getting killed in the process," Kup told Sparkplug. "It was all we could do to hold back. It's not a matter of are we going to do something. How are we going to do it without getting those poor humans slaughtered? "

Sparkplug remarked that between the archivist and the pet, they had more information on Earth than Megatron did. The laptop got a workout. While no one was off-lined in the escape, there were injuries to bots and damage to the ships. Ratchet did not have time or materials to make the vocalizer; he told Sam that he sent the information and as soon as possible, one would be fitted.

Sam gave them as much information as he could, because in the back of his head he was afraid they would be forced to send him back. Sparkplug was the captain of a ship, Ratchet was a medic, and Willie was an engineer. None of them were in a position to make that kind of decision. Even if they thought his freedom was a foregone conclusion, Sam did not. Megatron could and would make it into a diplomatic incident.

Yes, he had gotten the Matrix of Leadership for Rodimus Prime, but Sam remembered how politics sometimes worked. Megatron might not know that Sam could write human language, or that he could use a datapad, or that he remembered everything he heard or saw, but Sam was Megatron's possession, and Megatron did not let go of anything that belonged to him. Ever. That was more of a pride and image situation than any fondness he may or may not feel for his human toy. Getting Sam back would be a game to him. Sam could only hope that the Prime was a better politician than Megatron believed he was.

Willie and Sam were working in the bowels of the ship when Sparkplug contacted Willie to tell him Rodimus was coming on board. They barely managed to get out, get cleaned up, and grab something to eat before the summons came to report to the bridge.

Willie was a space engineer and one of the best; he was more confident in his realm than the captain most of the time, but this was the Prime, and he was nervous. The former slave's face was blank. Willie could tell that Sam tried to fight off the automatic slave responses, but when he was tense, they came back. Willie spent most of the walk telling Sam about the Prime, how he directed the human/Autobot battle against the Fallen and won with the help of the Psyches whose world was under attack, and how he was rumored to be kind.

Yet when they came onto the bridge, Sam did not hesitate. Everyone on the bridge simply stepped aside as he walked over to the Prime, knowing that something was happening but not sure what. As the former slave approached, the Prime knelt down to meet him. Sam pulled the Matrix from his waistband, and held the glowing artifact out to the Prime as he came closer. Rodimus held his hand down, and Sam placed the Matrix in it.

Everyone on board felt the power as it flared. Sam and Rodimus were both still for several long moments, and Willie was sure time stopped until Sam stepped back and Rodimus stood. "Thank you, Sam," he said, and his voice was warm and kind. "I brought some beings I think you will want to see." Willie heard metal footsteps behind him.

Sam stilled even as the words were being said, and turned to look behind him. His hands moved, making a sign Willie had not seen before, though he was already learning basic signs. Then Sam's face lit up with joy as metal footsteps moved more quickly, and he was running.

Willie turned to see why, and saw Bumblebee, his family line's guardian, kneeling to catch Sam up and stand, as Sam's hands moved at almost hysterical speed and Bee talked softly. Willie saw Sam's hands move to his face to swipe at tears as Bumblebee carried him away. He saw Ironhide behind them, and wondered why the Lennox family guardian was there as well. They all left, only aware of each other at that moment.

"Do you know," Rodimus said to a stunned Sparkplug and Willie, "I brought them to confirm what Ratchet was telling me, and find I brought Sam a reward."

Sam knew the footsteps as they approached. Ratchet and Willie told him a little about Bumblebee and Ironhide, but being told was not seeing. When Sam turned to see Bumblebee and made the name-sign they agreed on so many years ago, he could see that Bumblebee knew him. He started running, even as 'Bee moved more quickly. Then Bee had him, and they were both talking. Sam could see Ironhide behind them.

He was safe. Bumblebee was here, and Sam knew he was safe and that everything was going to be better.

Bumblebee and Ironhide had questions and Sam answered them as well as he could. For hours he talked. He could tell Bumblebee and Ironhide anything. Not having to hold back was an incredible relief.

Rodimus gave Bumblebee and Ironhide instructions to first confirm Sam's claimed identity. If they believed that he was indeed the Samuel James Witwicky that they knew, he wanted to know what happened in the last two vorns on Earth. Well, there was no question in either of their minds about who this was. Bee knew Sam as soon as he saw his old friend. Ironhide asked about Will.

_He died fighting, the way he wanted,_ Sam told him. _The cancer was killing him slowly, but he never gave up. It was the way he wanted to go. _He told the story.

He told them about the first years of the war until his second death with Mikaela before Ratchet appeared in the conference room with food and water. While he ate, they told him about the birth of the space colonies, about the founding of the family lines and the struggle to build to a stable settlement. They talked about finding Rodimus and the other Autobots, and creating the Human/Autobot merge.

"It really did work out very well," Bumblebee admitted. "Together we worked out ways to get energon, to settle the colonies, to coordinate what we needed. Then we encountered the Fallen." Sam nodded, and Ratchet confirmed he had told Sam about the Fallen and that battle.

Sam told how Starscream and his allies concentrated on destroying large population centers around the world, and affecting communications where they could. Areas that were already stressed fell apart. Diseases once readily dealt with began to kill again. The elderly, deprived of the health care system that cared for them, began to die; women began to die in childbirth again.

While the resistance had whittled down the Decepticons on the planet before the waves began, the fallout of the war was a steady decline in population and civilization as it was known when Sam watched the Autobots' ship leave the sky.

Matters were just beginning to stabilize when Megatron reappeared and the waves began again. Sam told how the enslavement started, how the resistance, already heavily stressed with the first three waves of Decepticons under Starscream's leadership, could not stand when Megatron returned. The increase in fighters along with Megatron's more skilled leadership meant that Earth's defeat was finished in less than a decade after Megatron returned.

Sam worked on his laptop for a time. They all stared at the result, as it confirmed in graphics what Sam suspected from the time Ratchet told him about the Fallen. The waves that spelled the final blow to the resistance were a direct result of the end of the war with the Fallen. The Decepticons, led by Megatron, retreated to Earth

"Are you guys still here?" Sam started and the others looked over to see Willie climbing up the stairs onto the table. "It's day shift again." He was carrying two containers and brought them to Sam, who moved away from the laptop. He could smell the breakfast and realized he was starving.

When he opened the drink, he took a sniff and his eyes widened. Then he sipped and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. It was coffee. He sipped it slowly, savoring. "That came off Rodimus's ship," Willie told him. Willie was used to how Sam took his time with food he enjoyed and looked up at the bots. They were all watching Sam, and Willie studied them.

Willie glanced down at the laptop and absorbed what the chart meant without the bots seeing he had done so. Then he looked back up at the bots. "Rodimus needs Sam on the bridge," he said. "There's a three-way link up. Sam, you need to come with me, you can eat on the way."

"He can eat here and I'll take him there," Bumblebee said firmly. Sam opened the box and began to eat the hot cereal in it, flavored with raisins and bits of dried apple.

Willie shook his head. "He just wants Sam. If you take him, you have to drop him off and come back here. Rodimus insisted." Bumblebee said what he thought of that in Cybertronian, but he agreed. When Sam swallowed the last bite, Bumblebee held out his hand and Sam climbed on. With Bee the walk was fairly short. Sam went in the door alone.

Sparkplug gestured Sam over and placed him on a platform. "When Rodimus calls you, go over to him," he instructed softly. "Don't be afraid." Sam looked at the two screens and then back at Sparkplug. On one screen was a human, dressed in what were clearly formal clothes. With him was a being that looked a great deal like the 'aliens' from the flying saucer urban legends Sam remembered in his childhood. Good God, those must be the Psyches, he thought.

What he saw on the other screen made him feel sick. Even knowing Megatron could not see him did not help his fear. He realized that the sight of his 'owner' was enough to send him into 'slave mode.' He lifted his head and clutched his hands behind his back in defiance. Sparkplug murmured approval.

"Ratchet was captured unfairly and forced to work for you under circumstances that are and were at any time unacceptable," Rodimus was saying. "He escaped. There is nothing more to say in the matter."

"He took my pet with him and I want my pet back," Megatron demanded. Sam regretted eating. The food lay in his stomach like lead. He took deep breaths, calming himself.

"First state what the pet is before any concession or agreement can be made." The Psyche's mouth did not move but Sam was sure the statement came from him. "Also the condition of the pet."

"Once we confirm exactly what was taken, we can properly deal with the situation," the human representative agreed. They seemed to be in someone's office. There was an interesting artwork on the wall behind the desk.

Megatron growled. "I demand the unconditional return of my pet or I will consider that you have declared yourselves hostile to my empire." Sam's head went down and despair went through him. Of course they had to surrender him now. The stakes were too high. "And he was in good condition, and better still be," Megatron added ominously.

Rodimus was completely urbane. "I would like to confirm that the pet was wearing this," he said, and produced the collar.

Megatron hissed. "Yes," he said. "Where is he?"

"Here," Rodimus said, and gestured to Sam. Sam took the hardest ten steps he had ever taken. Rodimus placed the collar around Sam's neck, not fastening it but showing that it fit. Sam just barely managed to keep from screaming, and looked down to hide his face. No wonder they had not allowed the others here. Bumblebee and Ironhide would have blown the ship apart before letting Sam go back to Megatron, but these were leaders and had to think of their people first.

"This is your pet?" the human representative said, and her voice rose. She controlled it with visible effort. "Are you saying that this human being is the pet you are describing?" Sam stole a glance. She was clutching the arms to her chair so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"He is my slave, my pet, and my personal property," Megatron stated, "by the rules of my Empire, which is not part of your Alliance. He was stolen from me when the prisoner Ratchet left my jurisdiction. He had no right to do so, and I want my pet back."

"Why does the human not speak?' the Psych asked.

"His voice mechanism does not work, and we have not been able to fit a prosthetic one since he came into our care," Rodimus stated.

"Sam requested protection and to not be returned to Megatron a week ago, in front of one human and one Autobot witness," Sparkplug said.

"Sam could not have made such a request. He is not capable of speaking," Megatron said, "and he is not capable of caring for himself. We care for all humans on this planet, and they work for us in return for that care. Without us they would die. They are not intelligent as the humans in space are. "

Sam found his courage. He could not let that statement go. If he did, if he showed any kind of surrender, the representatives might waver, might believe Megatron and do nothing for his fellow slaves. He lifted his head. He saw several datapads nearby. One was small enough for a human to use, if awkwardly. Sam pointed to the datapad and to himself, looking up at Rodimus. Rodimus handed it to him; it had a human keyboard on it. Sam began to work the datapad as Sparkplug connected it to the computer.

_Ratchet did not steal or kidnap me. I came of my own free will. I made the request to the captain in writing, _Sam wrote in English_. _The words appeared at the bottom of the screens, and Sam knew from the looks on the representative's and Megatron's faces that they could see them as well.

"What is this nonsense?" Sparkplug had the computer translate the words into Cybertronian script. This time it was Megatron who was enraged. "He is my property and has no right to choose," Megatron snapped. "You know your place, Sam. You know that the slaves on this planet need their masters. "

There was a dead silence on the bridge. Sam looked straight at Megatron without permission, a silent defiance that Megatron understood perfectly well. Sam knew his life would be pure hell if they gave him back after he did this, but he had to take that risk. He turned his attention back to the datapad.

Sam wrote, _When Megatron placed this collar on me, after destroying the last human refuge, he stated and I quote, 'You have lived freely; you can no longer be allowed to associate with your own kind, and are exiled from them. I claim you now as my own, as a living reminder of what humans used to be and never will be again.' This statement was witnessed by several Decepticons and is a part of the official record. _

Before Megatron could start his denials, Sparkplug stated blandly, "We do have proof in the form of a hologram that Megatron did make that statement to Sam as he put the collar on him." That was news to Sam, and he wondered just what else Jetfire shared with the other bots.

All of the representatives absorbed that information. Sam added, _I request again, directly to the Council, not be returned to Megatron and for protection from him.  
_

"The Council has agreed to allow the three representatives here decide the matter," the Psyche said. "We do not wish to begin hostilities. "

Megatron sat back, sure he had his way. "Wise," he purred, "not to risk so much for one slave. I am willing to forget the matter and continue negotiations once he is back where he belongs. " Sam looked down to hide his despair.

"However, to agree to your request is to agree that ownership of members of the human race is acceptable." The Psych sat forward and gestured when he spoke. "Sentient beings are not property. That is a core belief of this Alliance. From the moment this human come onto the ship, he was a free being. I agree to grant Samuel James Witwicky's request for asylum and protection."

"A being that can learn to write is intelligent and sentient, "the human representative stated flatly. "I agree with the statement of my fellow representative in every particular, in that ownership of any sentient being is not acceptable, and in granting the request of my fellow human for asylum and protection."

Rodimus Prime took the collar off of Sam's neck, placed it on the floor, and stepped on it. The crunch was audible. "I agree with my fellow representatives in every particular," he stated calmly, "in that ownership of any sentient being is not acceptable, and in granting the request of the sentient human being Samuel James Witwicky for asylum and protection. The decision is therefore unanimous. "

"So be it," Megatron growled. He looked at Sam. "Do not think that this is over, _slave_." Sam flinched at the growl. "You will return to me, and when you do, I will remind you of your place."

Then Megatron's transmission was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine.

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. There will be a lot of family obligations in the next few weeks, so updates will be slower than usual but they will appear! Be patient with me, and let me know if the quality suffers.

Megatron paced his ship. The crew of the ship wisely avoided him.

When he arrived back at his base, and discovered that his prize medic, his pet, and his traitorous archivist were all gone, he was furious, but not afraid. He did not want to lose any of them, and losing them hurt his pride more than his position. When he negotiated for Sam's return, he would learn how far and how hard he could push and how well he could manipulate his enemies.

Hearing Soundwave's news changed his attitude. The idea that the All-Spark might reside in the pet he kept so close was a shock, but Soundwave's reasoning was sound. In a way, it was a relief, knowing that there was a reason he allowed himself to care what happened to a mere human.

He had no reason to believe that Rodimus knew more than he did about that possibility, but he was prepared to push harder for Sam's return. From the report of the guards and Soundwave, Ratchet did not know Sam was anything but a human pet that looked like the Sam Witwicky he once knew. To that end he set out. Soundwave was on a different ship with his cassettes, sent to get into position for monitoring transmissions and for a strike if needed. He was not able to take much; enough for a strike and run if he needed it but no more than that. Megatron did not expect to fight.

After that meeting- everything had changed, and the stakes had just escalated. Rodimus had changed; he was like Optimus now, a true Prime. Megatron had to wonder if proximity to Sam, who held part of the All-Spark, made the difference.

Sam's defiance and the reaction of the organic Alliance members fueled his rage. They all needed to be taught a lesson in who their superiors were.

Megatron cursed himself, Soundwave, and any of his other minions for missing that Sam could read and write. He saw Sam looking at the books, but most had pictures, and he had thought nothing of it. Worse, it was clear that Sam could use a datapad, and could remember what he heard. He was as dangerous with the Autobots as Soundwave once predicted.

He contacted Soundwave, his mind working. There was going to be one opportunity to get his hands on Sam now. Otherwise, he would have to fall back on his spy at the Alliance space colony, and that was risky.

"Get him," he ordered his most reliable minion. "Bring him back alive and in as good condition as you can, but bring him back."

He wanted to go himself, but he was not as good in infiltration and stealth attacks as Soundwave and his cassettes. If Soundwave succeeded, he needed to have their return planned. If he did not, he would need to ensure his defenses were ready and change his strategy.

He would get his pet back, sooner or later. If it was later, that was so much the worst for Sam. His pet knew better than to defy his superiors; the longer it took to get him back, the longer Megatron would have to plan how to teach him to never defy his master again.

If Sam held part of the All-Spark, Megatron knew he would have to expose Sam to the shard and risk losing his pet. Still, that could wait until Sam leaned his lesson- and learned it well.

Sam started shaking as soon as Megatron's video was gone. The datapad fell, and only Rondimus' quick grab kept Sam from doing the same. He lowered the shaken human to a sitting position on the table. Sam could tell he was contacting someone at the same time.

"Are we ready if he starts hostilities?" the human representative asked tightly.

"I have Ironhide and Willie preparing the fleet for possible attacks," he stated calmly. "Sparkplug, what information do you have on what Megatron currently has available to him?" Sparkplug gave the information he had from the probes. In the meantime Sam got himself together and picked up the datapad. "Sam, can you add anything?" Sam considered and started writing.

Several minutes later, he added, _That's as much as I know, and I did not see any of the space stuff or most of the ships. I got most of it from listening to Megatron plan. _

The human and Psych representative looked at the information on the screen before looking back at Sam. "Rodimus, get Sam here as soon as you can," the human representative declared. "And watch your rear, big guy. That pile of glitched metal is going to break his circuits coming after you and Sam before you can rely on backup."

Rodimus said, "There are other matters I need to discuss with Sam. I will bring him back with me. Agreed?"

"Certainly," the human representative said. "For one thing, that bastard lied about your condition, since it doesn't look like he fed you worth a damn, and for another you need a voice! Sparkplug, instruct your medic to get the measurements and we'll arrange for the prosthesis as soon as possible."

"I believe the human would benefit from some attention from one of our human specialists," the Psych stated thoughtfully. "If you consent, Samuel James Witwicky."

Rodimus said, amusement in his voice, "I believe that Ratchet has already started arrangements, on all suggestions. Good day." The transmission winked out. "With your permission, Sam?" He put his hand out, and Sam stepped onto it, leaving the datapad behind. They left the bridge.

"Even if you had nothing to offer, we would not have sent you back to Megatron unless you asked to go," Rodimus told him as they moved through the hallway. "I am sorry that we could not tell you beforehand, but we needed you to react naturally. Please believe me." Sam nodded. "I have spoken with Ratchet, and there is more you need to know."

That woke Sam up somewhat; that, and what he needed to tell the Prime. He considered what he needed to say when he got to someone who could translate, or his computer.

When they reached the med bay, Ratchet was waiting, and he had plenty to say. Fortunately, someone had brought the computer, and Sam waved at Rodimus and pointed to it. Obligingly, Rodimus put him down near it.

"You need to sleep," Ratchet said.

Sam typed, _Ratchet, I have missed many nights of sleep and I will be fine. I'd be even better if I could get another cup of coffee._

Rodimus laughed. "The human crew on my ship will be glad to share with you. As you heard, you will be coming with me, as will Ratchet and Willie. Neither are normal crew on this ship, they were here for the trip to Earth. Willie is gathering your belonging with his. However, here we can have a small amount of privacy. Ratchet, if you would seal the door." Ratchet did so. Then they explained.

For a moment Sam just absorbed the information. _Why did both of you wait to tell me?_ Sam finally asked.

"At first I did not know how loyal you might be to Megatron," Ratchet admitted. "Once on this ship, I was under orders from Rodimus to wait."

"I waited until I could confirm your claims," Rodimus explained. "Once you gave the Matrix, I knew you were trustworthy, but I felt you had the right to time with your friends. I have never met a human with a brother bond to an Autobot. You are quite unique, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes. How I wish I was the totally normal geek I thought I was at sixteen, he thought bleakly. _Megatron is going to try and come after me, which I think you know,_ he said. _What you might not know is that he has some kind of spy near your government. Not part of it, from what I understand, but in the space colony that has the government. _

_The spy connects to Soundwave, not to Megatron. I gathered that he did something-not disloyal, as something that disgusted both of them, and this is his chance to both redeem himself, and to indulge himself in whatever it was he was doing. _

"I was not aware of a Decepticon spy in our space," Rodimus said thoughtfully. "I will have to look into that." Sam rolled his eyes. If Rodimus knew about him, the spy would be pretty useless.

_I don't think the spy would be in your bots, Prime. That would be too easy to check. He'll be a neutral, if you allow those_. _I also know that it might be a Pretender. _

"What's a Pretender?" Ratchet asked, shoving something at Sam while he asked. Sam took the container, discovered it held fruit, and set it down to type his answer. Then he started eating, slowly, taking his time.

_A pretender is a Cybertronian whose alt form is a human. _Both Ratchet and Rodimus looked at that and frowned. Sam swallowed his mouthful and started signing, _I wouldn't believe it either, but I met one, under unpleasant circumstances, when I was a slave. I believe it could be him, because he did do some things that would disgust Decepticons. _

"I really don't want to know what could disgust a Decepticon. " Ratchet said. Sam nodded, as he had one of his hands full. "At the same time, it's hard to imagine a Cybertronian pretending to be a human for any length of time without being seen for what he is."

Sam put the last of the food into his mouth and signed, _I'm telling you, Ratchet, he practiced on slaves. Granted, most slaves are worked too hard to notice much, but considering how far he took the interaction and got away with it, I believe he could manage. I figured it out before the supervisor did, and he was a 'con, too. _

"What did he do?" Rodimus asked. Sam busied himself taking the container back to Ratchet, and was saved having to answer when Rodimus looked alert, and added, "We must leave soon. I believe Willie should be ready by now, but if you wish you can be sure he got all of your possessions."

Sam was climbing down and heading for the door quickly enough to make Ratchet wonder, and the medic made a mental note to push the matter later.

As Sam walked down the corridor, he considered what he learned from Willie and a little from Bumblebee and Ironhide.

"I'm a space brat," Willie told him as they worked on one of the probes. "I was born in the A-12 space colony to the Witwicky family," he added proudly. All children born in space were tested early, and those who met certain criteria were trained for working as engineers on spacecraft. Humans, being smaller, were able to get into the machinery to find problems and fix them, and this enabled the original Human/Cybertron partners to keep the size of ships down. Sam was startled to find out that Willie stated his space training at twelve, though not in the deep space ships. He started working his own ship at sixteen, and started deep space ships at eighteen. He was in his late twenties now.

Sam asked about families. "In space, everyone belongs to a family line. We keep careful records so there won't be too much inbreeding," the engineer explained seriously. "The Witwicky family is unique, in that our founder, Mikaela Witwicky, didn't come to space. She stayed with the sire, Sam Witwicky. Ratchet couldn't get them to come to space but she left him genetic material. There were four original parents that used the material, and they founded the family line."

So that was why Mikaela was willing to stay with him. Sam tried hard to get her to go with the Autobots, but she insisted on staying. Come to think of it, Willie did look like Mikaela. Sam had a hard time keeping his face straight when he found out that the other founding families were Epps, Lennox and Simmons.

Even better, Sam could tell from the way Willie talked that the women ran the space families, and in the most part, ran the colonies. The surname of the child came from the mother, and family lines were matriarchal. A man helped raise his sister's children, though Willie admitted most fathers were interested in their own children. "But you know for sure that your nieces and nephews are yours," he added seriously. "Only the computers know for sure who the father of a child is, though most of the time the woman knows." Sam gathered that in most cases, the grandmothers supervised child rearing.

About a third of the Alliance's human population was in the space colonies, and the rest were on the planet colony. The planet colony's rules were a little different, as they had to cooperate more with the dolphins species on the planet they settled, and the allies on other planets, while the space colonies dealt more with the Autobots and the Psyches. The Central Alliance Administration was in space with the colonies, as that was a central location.

Sam wondered how he was going to fit into this brave new world.

Willie was packing, his mind working as his hands moved in. Packing was a routine he knew well, and the movement helped him think.

One of the requirements of a space 'brat' or engineer was intelligence. Sam did not look older than Willie, but Willie picked up quickly that Sam was much older than he looked. To the plumb Willie, Sam was painfully thin, and Willie knew Sam was deprived of human company. For that reason, Willie seldom left Sam alone except when the thin human with the haunted eyes was with Ratchet. He understood being starved for human company.

Worse, no matter how well Sam managed to cover it, there was no mistaking his wariness around 'bots he did not know. While Sam was comfortable with Ratchet, and knew in his mind that the other 'bots were safe; his gut told him otherwise. The 'bot saw it, and they did their absolute best to reassure the human. They saw the abuse of humans on Earth; Willie heard them discussing it. They understood Sam's fear, and it saddened them.

That made Sam's reaction to the family guardians even more remarkable. There was no way Sam could know Bumblebee and Ironhide; Willie knew they were in space with the colonies from the time the Autobots on Earth appeared to join Rodimus Prime with the first human colonists. All the families had guardians; Willie knew Bumblebee and Ironhide due to family ties, for Bumblebee, and due to his space work for Ironhide.

But Sam knew Bumblebee was behind him before he turned around, and ran to him, as if greeting family he thought was lost. He greeted Ironhide like a friend as well. How could he know them?

There was no way Sam could know who Rodimus Prime was. But Sam walked up to Rodimus as if he knew the Prime personally, with no hesitation at all. When Sam gave Rodimus that artifact, Willie felt the power like sunlight on his skin; he could see that the other bots felt it as well. Why did Sam have to give Rodimus the artifact? How did giving it to Rodimus release the power?

Willie wanted to know what was going on. Whatever it was, it was going to affect the Alliance, and it was going to affect his family. He knew better than most what the war with the Fallen cost the races that were part of the Alliance; he knew what a new war would cost. The main debate in the Council was partially fueled by the desire to have the resources available on humanity's home as opposed to the cost of the war itself.

The idea that kept entering the space engineer's head was too wild to be believed, but it was also the only reason that worked. Had he just been in space too long? He was so deep in thought that he did not notice the other being in the room until too late.

Sam got to the corridor when the ship rocked and alarms wailed. He fell into a door, which opened. He remembered the room; it was part of the engineering staff's area, and one of the things it held was weapons in case of close ship attack. The weapons for humans were designed for self-defense and could be used on a wide or tight fire. It was also designed for ease of use and to do as little damage to the ship's innards as possible. Willie showed them to him with great reluctance. "I'm an engineer because I can't stand to shoot at anything and I hate fighting," he admitted to Sam. "This way I help but I don't have to fight. I keep the ship going and leave the fighting to the ones who are good at it."

The Decepticons would scan for humans. There were only two on the ship, and both of them needed to get to a safe area asap. Sam grabbed two of the weapons and raced for Willie's room as he slung one on his back and carried the other. He hoped he did not need it but he had no intention of being any more helpless than he had to.

He threw open the door and came to a dead stop just inside the doorway. Willie was cowering against the wall. In front of him was Frenzy. From where he stood Sam could see that Willie was already bleeding in two places, his leg and his arm. Frenzy was hissing something Sam missed. The little infiltrator had a disc in his hand, holding it over Willie's face, not quite touching him, but when he heard the door open Frenzy jumped back to face the new threat.

Willie saw the weapons and dropped, his battle training asserting itself.

He may have been a slave for decades, but Sam could call up memories from his other lives at need. He would not be able to aim very well; that took muscle skills this body did not have. Sam fired high on wide angle, knocking Frenzy back. The disc grazed his shoulder and he was able to ignore the scratch. It would have wedged in his shoulder if the blast had not knocked it off its course. That gave Willie time to crawl toward the door. Frenzy got up and Sam fired again. He stepped over Willie, giving the engineer access to the door.

"Sam," Frenzy said, moving forward slowly. "Come now, I won't hurt you. Fight, I hurt you, bring you anyway, punishment worse. You know your place. Drop weapon and come."

Sam let him talk while looking for how the infiltrator got in. Willie was out of the door and talking wildly on his com. Sam edged back. He shook and let the gun on his back fall to his arm, before moving quickly to let it fall to the floor, squatting just a bit to do so. Then he fired again. The disc was already flying, and this time it missed him, though Sam felt the wind of it pass his ear. Frenzy fell against the wall and slid down. Sam backed until he was standing at Willie's back. He felt Willie's head touch his back and adjusted a little so Willie would not knock him down if he fell. Willie seemed to be on his knees.

Where were the rest of Soundwave's cassettes? Frenzy would not be alone. Unarmed, Sam could not hurt Frenzy, but the small cassette could not take a struggling Sam anywhere either, not alone. The small con was saying something again about surrendering, which Sam gave half an ear as he listened for a threat behind him and watched for another disc.

"What the Pit is that?" he heard Willie shriek, before he heard firing. It sounded like Willie got the other weapon. Well, now he knew where the other cassettes were. Where was help? These weapons would force the cassettes back, but they were not going to do damage; they were designed to allow an engineer to defend himself while not doing damage to the ship itself.

"Sam! Willie! Hold on, I'm coming, more help's on the way!" Sam recognized Sparkplug's voice. Unfortunately, it distracted Sam into glancing back.

Frenzy threw, and while the blast Sam fired threw Frenzy back again, the disc flew true and lodged in Sam's upper leg. It hurt like hell. He could feel the blood begin to trickle. Frenzy was trying to disable him. He braced against the door frame, not daring to try to pull it out, not daring to trust his weight on that leg now.

"Drop the weapon." With that, the ceiling was ripped open and Soundwave was reaching for him. Sam fired, and jumped back. His leg gave and he went down. Willie scrambled out of his way. Soundwave missed him. There was a blast over Sam's head at Soundwave, even as he saw Frenzy grab for his leg. Sam fired again, knocking Frenzy off of him. Another blast went over his head, this time from Soundwave and Willie shrieked Sparkplug's name as Frenzy grabbed Sam and pulled him before Sam kicked him off and fired directly into Frenzy this time.

The blast threw Frenzy back, but Sam could tell that the weapon was almost out of power. Soundwave was aiming over Sam's head, but not able to reach him without the risk of taking a shot from whoever was in the door. Sam was afraid to look away from the telepath. For a moment there was quiet in the room, as everyone took in the impasse.

"Sam, you know you must come back," Soundwave said. "You belong to Megatron. He is your master and your protector. He treats you well. Come." Soundwave put every ounce of power he could into his voice. Sam was a slave, had been a slave for some time. With all the memories of dominance Sam had, with all the knowledge of how helpless he was against the Decepticons and how he needed Megatron's protection to be safe, Sam should hesitate enough for Soundwave to seize him.

He could see Frenzy's work in the two wounds that were seeping blood. The master would not be pleased at the damage, but Soundwave knew Frenzy had no choice; the small cassette was an expert in infiltration, not in capture, and the pet would not die from the wounds.

Instead of hesitating, Sam snarled soundlessly at the telepath and pushed back with his good leg, into the reach of the bot behind him. Soundwave lunged.

Sam was gone and a powerful shot blew the telepath back. Frenzy shrieked as Ironhide's fist crushed him. Soundwave shrieked his rage as he fell back, before two other shots tore into him.

The rest of the battle was intense, but in the end the Decepticons were driven back, with heavy casualties. They took Soundwave's body with them, along with any other they could reach. They had to leave the cassettes' boddies behind.

In the med bay, it was finally quiet. Sam looked at the ceiling and let his mind drift. Willie was beside him. Sometimes the young engineer twitched in his sleep. Sam would touch him somehow-a pat on the arm, a stroke over his hair, a gentle rub on his back- and Willie would settle back into sleep. Poor baby, Sam thought, he had never seen direct combat before. On their way to the med bay on Rodimus' much larger and better defended ship, Willie admitted that he never had to fire the weapon before outside of practice, and that he had not been wounded or confronted a Decepticon before today.

When Frenzy appeared, Willie refused to speak to him and tried to call for help. Frenzy cut him with the disc twice trying to get him to say where Sam was. The _Scout_ took a lot of damage, to the point it was being towed. It would not hold air. The rest of the patrols were intact enough to get back to their base, though there was plenty of damage.

Frenzy got into the ship, opened it up for Soundwave and his other cassettes while the fleet was attacked from another area, and went to find Sam. Ravage attacked Willie in an attempt to get to Frenzy and Sam. Willie managed to keep off the cat cassette long enough for Sparkplug to there, only to have Lazorbeak and Ratbat join the attack.

It was all Sparkplug and Willie could do to hold them off until Ironhide and Bumblebee appeared. Bumblebee went after the flyers while Ironhide got Ravage away from Willie, Willie to Sparkplug, and then yanked Sam away to deal with Frenzy and Soundwave. As soon as the cassettes were dealt with, Bumblebee snatched up Sam and Willie and headed for the med bay, only to hear via the com that it was attacked as well and Ratchet was busy defending his territory.

Willie managed to direct Bumblebee to a supply cabinet where they could at least clean the wounds and get something to slow the bleeding, in addition to air for both of them. Sam had just taped Willie's arm when Sparkplug reappeared. The two bots got the wounded humans to the _Primal's _med bay, before taking off to rejoin the battle. There was no human medic on board, but a kindly medic bot named First Aid knew how to treat humans. Sam flatly refused any pain medicine or sedation except something to numb his leg and get the lodged disc out. He had to know how the battle would come out first.

Willie stayed on the edge of hysteria until the wounds were dealt with. Then he calmed a little, helped by the medicines First Aid offered. When he saw that Sam's presence helped the engineer settle down, First Aid set the bedding so that Sam and Willie were close enough to reach each other.

There were more than enough casualties that First Aid could not spend much time with them. Sam watched as bots were triaged and then tended. Ratchet came in about an hour after the humans were settled. He had a few scorch marks and was leaking from a few scratches. He did allow First Aid to deal with the leaks and convince him that looking worn would not help his patients. Once he had cleaned up and gulped down some fuel, he went back to work. He had looked over Sam and Willie while allowing First Aid to tend him.

Sam signed _I seem to bring trouble wherever I go._ Megatron did not let any other con touch his pet without permission. For Frenzy to dare harm him even to bring him in was a sign of how desperate they were to get him back.

Ratchet snorted and signed, _**Blame the All-Spark in you for this one.**_ _**We know that Soundwave did figure out that possibility. **_"I brought the laptop and the stuff Willie packed over and it's dumped somewhere. There's some human crew members here, and they'll come with something for you to eat after a while. Ironhide, Bumblebee and Rodimus will be in after everything calms down a little more. Try to sleep, will you?"

Sam knew he should sleep. He watched the med bay slowly empty, listened to the talk in English and Cybertronian, and ate the meal the harried crew brought him. They stayed a while to make sure he was all right and to look Willie over, as he normally served on this ship and they knew him well.

He heard voices were coming nearer and closed his eyes. Ratchet would not hesitate to shove painkiller into him, and Sam did not want it. He did not like pain, but the numbing salve First Aid used took care of the worst of the pain in his wounds anyway. He was in a warm soft bed and had a full stomach; he could manage.

"Nice try, Sam, but I know when you're faking," Sam turned his head and made a face at Ratchet. The med bay was dimmed now. "Rodimus wants to talk to you, and Bee's not going to rest until he sees how you are."

Sam started to push himself up. Ratchet placed a hand over him. "Don't open those wounds." Sam rolled his eyes.

_I am not fragile and I am not going to break, Ratchet, promise. Frenzy had no intention of doing serious damage._ _I've survived a lot worse than this, you know, without the tender loving care I got from First Aid. _

"That's no reason not to take care now that you can. Here he is." Rodimus appeared, moving over a berth at a time, checking on his other soldiers. Something in Sam relaxed at the sight of the Prime. "Sam," he said when he arrived. Ratchet stayed to translate.

"I must tell you that Megatron knows what you hold now," Rodimus told Sam. "We intercepted a communication from them. "

_He's going to dig himself in on Earth hard, and come after me from the shadows. And when he does get his hands on me-"_Sam stopped. When Megatron got hold of Sam again, Sam was going to be in pain for a long, long time.

"We will protect you, Sam. I regret that Willie and you are hurt, but I intend to use that to our advantage. Will you help? "

_Decepticons have that name for a reason. I want everyone in the Alliance to know who they are dealing with. I don't want any more of this_, he pointed to Willie, who chose that time to whimper. Sam stroked an arm, and Willie settled again_. The threat will not end until Megatron is defeated. He is never going to stop reaching for power. That's what he is. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do. _

Rodimus nodded. "Thank you. We will work out the details later." He left. Ratchet watched him go. Ratchet supported Rodimus, but none of the original Earth team could help thinking that the new Prime fell short of Optimus. Rodimus was a Prime, certainly, but it took the combination of the Autobots, the humans under Abigail Lennox's command, and the Psyches to bring the Fallen down. Rodimus was a leader, and he was tried, but he was not Optimus.

Today that changed. Today Rodimus kept his troops together, got Willie and Sam rescued, and drove the Decepticons off with only his own leadership skills. There was no one else to lead, and without Rodimus, the Decepticons would have gotten Sam and done vicious damage to the fleet. Ratchet did not know if it was the Matrix making Rodimus stronger or more confident, but he did know that no one would question the Prime's abilities again.

Then he told Sam that Bumblebee would not be allowed in until Sam took a painkiller. Sam swallowed the medicine reluctantly. Ratchet made the call and Bumblebee came into the room. He was somewhat the worst for wear, but nothing that would not be mended during the trip back.

He stretched out on the berth by Sam and Willie, curling his hand around Sam. Sam began to talk to his old friend, but his signs began to move more slowly and before too much longer his hands dropped. When Ratchet checked again, Sam was curled against Bumblebee's hand, and Willie was curled against Sam. All of them were dead to the world.

Ratchet went to his own recharge. All of them better take what respite they could. Like it or not, the war had begun again.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

I do not own Transformers; I merely play with the characters and wish I had the idea first.

Thanks for the reviews and alerts. They keep me going.

I had to decide between two short chapters, one posted today and one posted later in the week, or one very long chapter later this week. You can guess which I chose. Please give opinions as I can make changes if needed.

Willie woke up and found he was stiff and sore, but warm. He opened his eyes and looked around. He figured out in a moment that he was in the med bay. Then the memories came flooding back. He sat up and found that he was not alone. Sam and Bumblebee were on the berth with him. No wonder he felt safe last night. But he needed food and a bathroom and he wanted something for pain. He didn't need anything strong; he could get mild painkiller from his fellow crew members. He headed out.

Some time later, he came back in to see if Sam was awake and felt capable of facing the morning. Willie certainly felt better, have received food, time in the bathroom, and both sympathy and respect from his friends. Sam and Bumblebee were still asleep.

Ratchet appeared. The medical bot looked one hell of a lot better now than he had last night, Willie thought. "So you're already moving around," he said. "Come here and let me look at you." Ratchet hummed as he undid First Aid's work. "These aren't very bad, but I don't want you to open up those stitches, so you're on light duty for a few days. For now, would you see if you can scare Sam up some clothes? Don't give them to him yet, just find them."

Willie did 'scare up' some clothes he thought Sam could wear with a belt of some kind. As he did, he was pelted with questions on Sam by both his fellow humans and the other bots. Those he could not answer he said, "You can ask him that yourself when Ratchet lets him go." He did get some work done, but his fellow workers kept an eye on him. That normally annoyed him, though he understood that they were more afraid of his mother than any Decepticon alive.

He decided that two human casualties could keep each other company, and went to find Sam with lunch for both of them. Bumblebee was gone, and Sam was working on the computer, alone on the berth but propped on some kind of soft cushioning. He gave Willie a genuinely glad smile when he appeared. _Company, I hope? Ratchet threatened to tie me down if I leave the berth. I'd ignore him but I don't have any decent clothes. First Aid cut my pants off to get to that blade yesterday. Bee's worse than Ratchet, he wanted to carry me to the waste disposal. _Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sam, that disc thing was buried half its diameter in your leg," Willie exclaimed. He set the food and the drink container down and got himself down onto the extra cushion Sam slid over. "Hell, my cuts weren't anything like what that thing did to you and Ratchet's got me on light duty. " Willie's face fell, and he put down the sandwich he had started to bite into. "I never thanked you for saving my skin yesterday," he said, and was ashamed at how his voice caught in the middle of the sentence.

Sam, whose mouth was full of sandwich, studied his young friend. When he swallowed, he wrote out, _You did great_. Willie opened his mouth, and Sam stopped his words with a hand over his mouth. _Let's eat first, and then talk, OK?_ As Sam hoped, the simple three words did cheer Willie a little, and he managed to eat the simple meal with Sam. Sam finished his sandwich slowly, sipping at his drink as he ate.

_Now, tell me what happened to you before I showed up. _He listened patiently to Willie's short description. _First off, let me explain who you were dealing with. _He explained Soundwave and his cassettes. _I'm going to tell you again, you did great. You didn't run, you stayed and when you needed to, you fought. You called for help. _

"I've never been so scared in my life," Willie said, admitting what bothered him most. He was scared before every battle. But facing something that intended to hurt him, and did hurt him, and knowing that soon he would betray someone already hurt over and over because he really was hurt, was bleeding…. He almost did just take off down to hallway instead of stay and call for help, and only hearing Sam coolly firing his weapon at the thing over and over kept him there.

_If_ _you weren't, I'd call you the biggest fool alive. Courage is staying when you're scared, not acting like a damn fool who thinks he's immortal. That kind just gets killed and gets others killed with him. People like you who are scared but can still think tend to survive. _

"That's true," Rodimus said behind them. Willie jumped a foot. "I did not mean to startle you, Willie. Sam saw me and I assumed you had as well. "Willie stammered something. "I have the reports on what occurred yesterday, and you did well, especially for someone not trained in direct combat. Sparkplug asked that you be assigned to him again when the _Scout_ is repaired. "

Bumblebee and Ironhide came in as Rodimus was speaking. Ironhide snorted. "You did good staying alive, much less holding off Soundwave's cassettes, the both of you. Soundwave won't be bothering anyone anymore."

Sam signed, _I wish I could believe that, but Megatron will try to revive him with the shard. _He explained about the shard and how often it worked. Ratchet remembered the comment from his patient about off-lining and the shard. _That's why the Decepticons always take bodies back when they can. _

"Well, we have Ravage, Frenzy, Lazorbeak and Ratbat accounted for," Ironhide said. Willie brightened considerably.

"You'll have a few hundred more men saying they could be your father," Bumblebee said, teasing Willie. Willie looked embarrassed. Sam asked what he meant.

"I don't have an official father, " Willie explained, now more embarrassed. "I'm a third child, and my mom was older when she had me after my brother got killed in a space accident."

From Willie's monologues while he worked and Sam helped, Sam knew that all children were raised by the family of the mother, sometimes by the mother and sometimes by the grandmother. The father was not legally responsible, though they normally took an interest; the uncle of a child was the male caretaker. _I thought you could only have two children. _

"When a child dies, a parent can request to have another child. Population Control sets the guidelines, though. One of Mom's was that she not tell who the father was." Willie rolled his eyes. "Another was that she had only one chance, date set and everything."

Sam did not miss the way Ratchet looked at he and Willie, and a suspicion began to grow. Ratchet shooed everyone away for a few minutes to check Sam's cuts. _Ratchet, how much do you know about this? Do you know who his father is? _

Ratchet bandaged the wounds again., then signed, _**I know that his father is from the sperm banks. Population control did not want to give her that chance, but she did have the right. It was a miracle that she conceived, considering. A lot of men like to think that Willie could be theirs, as he would be a third child of theirs and therefore they could considered superior genetic material. She allows that under order. She tended to be rather-active- so there are a lot of men who could make that claim. It gives Willie a lot of protectors. **_

When Ratchet waved everyone back in, Sam found out why Rodimus came.

"Sam, I am under strict orders from Ratchet not to tire you out, but I need to know more about this pretender you discussed with Ratchet and I." Sam's face went blank.

Ratchet, Bumblebee and Ironhide all knew that look. In Sam, past and present, it was a sign of distress. Ratchet came up immediately. "Are you in pain, Sam?" Sam shook his head.

"What's a Pretender?" Willie asked.

Sam typed the answer. "You said yesterday that you had unpleasant memories of the Pretender and something about how far he took the interaction," Ratchet said slowly. He tried to remember if there was anything in the documents Sam already written about his life regarding this Pretender. "Sam, lie down, and for just one day at least get pressure off that leg. I've got some painkiller here." He produced it. Sam took it, knowing that if he did not, Ratchet and Bumblebee would nag.

Willie considered, frowning. "How did they manage that? And how would he get away with it for any length of time? A bot doesn't need to eat, and he would need energon, and he'd have to learn to handle his strength. He'd have to learn how to act around people. How to move, even. He couldn't ever let anyone get too close." Ratchet absently adjusted Sam's cushions, making him lie down. Sam let them coddle him, taking comfort from that care.

"When you say too close, do you mean physical closeness?" Bumblebee asked. He placed his hand against Sam's cushions, giving Sam something to lean against.

"Yeah. Remember, in the colonies there's only so much space, so you're going to be in contact with people all the time. Maybe on Waterfall it would be easier." Waterfall was the planet the humans had their colony on.

_No, he's on the space colonies, on the one that holds the government. I remember hearing Megatron talk about his spy when I was his pet, and I'm sure of that_. "Sam hesitated. "_He got a chance to learn how to get by with humans dealing with slaves. He would be a supervisor first, then would be a slave where he supervised. _He considered before typing more, his eyes sliding over Willie. _I'm not going to say all slaves are stupid, but they are deliberately limited by the cons. At the same time, he fooled my supervisor and the other cons at the base camp, too. _

"How did you figure it out?" Willie asked.

_He decided to see how far he could go. I'll write you a report. Would that do? _

"For now. " They agreed that Sam would have it by the next morning. As Willie was back on duty, he left with Ironhide and Rodimus. Bumblebee stayed behind, and he managed to coax the story from Sam.

This was CyKill's third assignment, but he was wary about it.

The Master was ready to start dealing with the new Alliance, now that they had better space protection and could start putting some attention elsewhere. For that they needed better information than they could get from the neutrals. Soundwave came up with this idea, and since CyKill was small enough and clever enough, they assigned him. He protested, but not too hard, as he did prefer living to being several pieces of scrap metal.

So far, he learned to use the new form at the Master's base in the hidden labs. Then he worked in one factory as a supervisor, and in transform as one of the assembly line slaves. He worked at one of the bases for construction, as a supervisor, and then as a slave doing kitchen and ground work. All of this practice enabled him to observe, and then learn from actual interaction. Of course, matters would differ among the humans in the space colonies, but he needed to know basics at least.

He was confident until he got to the construction base. The other slaves seemed to notice nothing at the factory. However, matters at the base were different. The work itself required more strength and was much more dangerous, but not the continual work that the factory did. There was more interaction between work projects. As well, the slaves at the factory were more likely to have groups of friends, and he made no attempt to work into those groups there. Here, the work force was transient, in and out of the field. They did not notice a newcomer as quickly, and they were more likely to interact with a stranger than the factory slaves.

He was better able to observe here. He noticed that some slaves always seem to find a way out of work. He noticed that some slaves seemed to know all the others, while some tended to be more reserved. He saw that work crews who were together tended to band together for social interaction.

He learned quickly that the slaves who knew everyone also knew everything, and shared it with as many as they could. Gossips, they were called, and he knew what behavior he needed to imitate. He knew some of his associates were like that too, though they were not as bad as the humans. There was other peculiar behavior he noticed, when the slaves, all male, would get very close. He could not figure out what they were doing.

He noticed more of the peculiar behavior when he was assigned to work with Scrapper and his crew. Scrapper was known to get his work done and done right, within deadline. Cykill was surprised at how well Scrapper worked with his humans, especially considering that one was a flawed, mute slave, younger than the others.

Scrapper advised him on how to get respect from his crew when they were in the field and away from any other authority. "Punish stupid or careless mistakes," he instructed, "but don't punish them from something they can't help. If you don't know the difference, ask me. Ignore what won't make a difference. Tell them they did a good job if they do better than usual, and give rewards for exceptional work. Always know what's going on, even if it's something you're pretending to ignore. Step in and do what they can't."

Scrapper turned out to be right. The crew accepted him as a supervisor equal to Scrapper after Cykill had followed the advice. However, there were some things that Scrapper ignored that had Cykill doubtful. There was more of the close interaction here. This tended to happen at night when they thought the masters were not noticing. Scrapper explained.

"What for? There can't be offspring that way."

Scrapper snorted, amused in his sour way. "No, but it seems to be something that makes them easier to deal with most of the time, so I ignore it most of the time. You have to kind of keep an eye out, though. Sometimes one of them will start hurting one of the others, and that starts problems with the work. If you get a weak one, they'll gang up on him. That'll cause problems, so you have to watch out for that one until he toughens up, or get rid of him."

The speechless slave, ironically named Noisy, turned out to be a good strong worker with more intelligence than the others. They all talked to him, and they all knew his signs. Scrapper sent CyKill a download. In fact, all the slaves and even Scrapper used the signs sometimes, when talking was difficult. His main problem was that he tended to be independent. He was quite a bit younger than the others. Cykill often saw him taking time to gather plants when he finished a piece of work.

Once or twice at the end of the day he would see Noisy use a sign not in the download, and Scrapper said, "All right, but not long." Noisy would take the water buckets and leave. Curious, Cykill followed him. Noisy stripped and got in the water for a few minutes, before redressing and getting the water. Sometimes he washed the plants he gathered.

Finally he asked. "Yeah, Noisy knows how to move around in water," Scrapper said. "He's an odd one, Noisy. One of my crew found him, thought it was a body at first. He was a youngling then, scrawny, no clothes, no collar, and scared to death. Never figured out if he was dumped and learned to get along or if he was feral, since you can't ask him. I had to keep him by me until he got a collar. He'd have been gone like a shot without it."

Scrapper shook his head, remembering. "It took him a while to settle in and toughen up. I tried to get rid of him at first. He was really too young to be out here, with the older men, but there was never anyone to take him to the farms, and I found out he'd never be bred, being flawed, so," he shrugged. "I kept him around. There for the first few years, you never knew what he'd do next. Nearly gave me a shock when I saw him swim the first time. Squint there fell in the water when we were crossing a lake on our way to a job. Took us a while to stop the boat and he was too far for a rope. Noisy threw a piece of wood into the water and jumped in after it. He used the wood to keep Squint afloat while he towed him back. Since then I let him get in the water if he's quick."

"The plants, though?"

"Food. He knows which ones are good and which aren't, and he shares with the others, or I'd catch them at it. When you get your own crew, though, don't let them gather plants. By the time I figured out what they were doing, he'd been gathering for weeks and the crew was fine, so I let it be. Things like that are why I wonder if he was feral, but a patrol went out and didn't find any others."

As a human, CyKill went out the first time with another work crew, one on a two-day assignment. The supervisor worked his men constantly, yelled at them and switched them when they did not work fast enough to suit him, and still came in over deadline. There were no rest periods. As a result, his crew would not work hard unless he was on top of them, and he could not watch all of them all the time. Cykill worked steadily and still got switched twice. No one noticed that he did not eat or void, including the supervisor.

The second work crew he went out on was better. The supervisor did work the crew hard, but he did allow rest periods. He checked on them, but left them alone as long as they were working. His crew shared the food equally, and interacted during the meal. Cykill did eat, and cycled the food down to void it. He was pleased that no one noticed he was different, human or supervisor.

The final test was going to be the hardest. Scrapper's crew was due to go out for weeks. If he could manage to get through that test, he knew he was ready.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

I do not own Transformers or I would be rich. Sigh.

Sam had to stop and take a break before he told Bumblebee the rest of the story. Bumblebee was patient. He believed Sam needed to tell someone what happened to him, and he knew Sam felt safe with him. After a time, Sam was able to go on.

Noisy signed to his partner, Muscle, and started the cut. They needed to get the tree out to clear space for the road coming in. Muscle got out of the way, and after a few seconds the tree was down. He and Muscles attached the lift and they got it hauled to the salvage pile. It was large enough to go for timber. Then they started getting the largest limbs off while the others worked on the stump.

Muscle was not a bad work companion, Noisy thought as they worked. He did not talk much, he worked steady, and he did not try to take more than his share of the food. Squint was normally Noisy's partner, but Scrapper wanted him to learn to use Grunt's wedges for the stumps. Noisy and Squint taught Muscle the hand signs they used the most in the field.

At the same time, there was something odd about Muscle. He did not move quite the way all of them did. He learned the signs quickly, almost as if he already knew them. He was doubtful about the food Noisy brought in nightly, and on the first night they cooked the greens separately from the main food. However, when he saw how happily the others ate their portions, he was curious enough to try a little the next night. Noisy noticed that he paid close attention to talk about taste, and asked why some of the crew would not eat certain foods, as if he could not actually taste the food himself.

It was getting late, close to dark, and hard to work. Scrapper called a halt and everyone headed for camp. As usual, Noisy helped with the setup, and took the containers for water. He had a shirt full of radishes and spring onions to wash as well.

Noisy waded in the water and moved slowly. He enjoyed the water on these warm days after a hard day of work. Scrapper was an old stick about anything new, and gave him a hard time about the swimming at first, but he came around. He usually did, about anything that was actually useful at times, and the irritable supervisor had to admit that swimming was useful when Noisy saved one of the work crew from drowning.

He thought it was damned unfair, after getting beaten to death by that damned bastard in his last life, to have to deal with being enslaved from the beginning. At the same time, Scrapper was a stiff-necked son of a scrap heap that hated anything new or changing, but he actually looked after his crew and he would allow a lot of freedom that Noisy had not encountered in his memories, as long as it didn't get in the way of the work. For that reason, Scrapper had a good team of workers who were efficient and known for doing good work, and he usually was able to get his projects done on or under deadline.

Scrapper did not so much allow them to have gathered food as he would be elsewhere while they ate it, as long as everyone also ate the supplied food. The other slaves raised a fit when Noisy tried to hunt or fish, but they gladly shared the plants he found. Scrapper also pretended not to know about the liaisons between his team members. Unlike Noisy, most of them went through the breeding farms and the mines, and they both knew what sex was and knew how to grab every chance at pleasure they could get.

Noisy understood that Scrapper was protecting him from being something of a sex toy to the other men when he kept the boy near him those first few years, until he judged Noisy strong enough to defend himself. After that, Noisy got plenty of offers, sometimes forceful ones. He refused all of them, sometimes forcibly. Underneath Noisy was Sam, and Sam knew how to fight off another human effectively. He saw nothing wrong with same sex pairings, but he was not inclined that way personally.

He was washing the veggies when Muscle showed up. He nodded at the new guy and hefted the container. The veggies were wrapped in his shirt. Muscle took the container. "Hey, you fall in or stop to take a leak or something?" he asked genially. "Took you a while. And your hair is wet."

Noisy only shrugged. "The others said that you know how to move in water. Is that something you learned before you came here?" The mute nodded. "How?" Noisy shrugged again. How the hell was he supposed to explain when he could not speak? He tried anyway, miming falling into water and staying afloat. "You fell in and had to learn, hmm?" Noisy nodded. They reached the camp site. Muscle looked puzzled when they ate the veggies without cooking them this time. Squint did not want the radishes and traded his for Grunt's onions. Noisy ate his own dinner and watched Muscle listening to them. Then he noticed how the firelight glinted oddly off of Muscle's face. Why was it odd? He looked at the others' faces. After a moment he saw what the problem was. Muscle's skin was too smooth and bore no little differences like the others. Noisy added that to other oddities.

In the next few days, during work, Noisy added up a few other things odd about the new guy. When the wind blew hard one afternoon and everyone was getting stuff in their eyes, Muscle did not seem to be bothered. Once a twig blew right into an eye, and he just pulled it away- no cursing at it, no tearing up, and no rubbing of his eyes later. During the break, all of them were gulping water, but Muscle did not get any until Noisy offered him the container. It took a while, but Noisy finally realized that while Muscle was breathing hard, he was not sweating. He came to his conclusion and wondered what if he should try to tell Scrapper that another of his kind was playing human for some reason.

CyKill thought everything was going well, but he had to admit he was curious about two things. One was the sex between the men. There were two pairings that seemed to be stable, and the others seemed to be random. Noisy did not indulge, but almost all the others did at some time or another. CyKill came to the conclusion that somehow it was a kind of stress relief, as most of them were more relaxed and in better moods after they indulged.

The other was the puzzle that was Noisy. He understood that Scrapper already sent in his reports on the mute, with no response, and that since the flawed slave had a use, there was no need to go any further with the matter.

But there was no explanation for what Noisy knew. No slaves knew how to find wild food anymore; in the past, before the collars were perfected, the slaves who knew how to gather and hunt often managed to escape. Escaped slaves were common in the last resistance. For that reason, slaves were discouraged from gathering wild food until none of them knew how anymore. No slave knew how to swim, as there was no need for them to lean. He did not believe that scrap about falling in for a moment. Yes, Noisy was intelligent, but CYKill had trouble believing that he could have learned food gathering and swimming as an abandoned slave. He looked up the reports while he was supposed to be sleeping, and was more intrigued. When he was found, Noisy did not have a collar, and he was very young, about the age that most boys were sent to a farm. Could Noisy be some kind of Alliance spy?

After a look at the records, he discovered that someone had already done a scan on Noisy and found nothing except that his voice box was an injury and not a defect he was born with. It was that information that had everyone dropping the matter, in fear that Noisy knew something that it was better not to find out. Taking out the voice box of a human child, and then abandoning them, hinted at someone trying something proscribed and dumping the slave to avoid being caught.

Then the crew was working on another tree, a big slagging monster. Noisy signaled him to get out of the way, waving him far back before using the cutter. CyKill got bored and began pacing. He realized too late that he wandered into the outer fall area.

If he had been human, he would have been killed. As it was, he was pinned. He shouted, and Noisy found him, gestured that he was getting help, and left, returning shortly with Scrapper. By that time, Cykill got himself moved to where the tree was only pinning a leg, and Scrapper got him out. He was scrapped a little, and there was some (fake) blood. Scrapper sent him to the camp to clean up. CyKill saw Noisy's face as he left. His luck had run out. Noisy suspected.

Accordingly, he waited until Noisy left with the buckets. Covered in the trees, he transformed into his normal mode, and followed Noisy. He got to the lake as Noisy was in the water. He watched as the slave moved in the water for a few moments, then stepped out to stand by the veggies, holding Noisy's clothes.

Noisy came out of the water and took the submission pose expected of a slave. CyKill said, "I think we need to speak, Noisy, "and transformed back into the human form. Noisy's face revealed nothing. So, he had guessed, or he would be surprised. "Come here. " Noisy came closer, and held out his hands for his clothes.

In the next second, his clothes were back on the ground and Muscle had him. Noisy's heart started slamming. "Calm down," Muscle/Cykill told him. "I am still learning this form. In all the time I have been testing it, you're the only one to see me for what I am. "

It was amazing, CyKill thought, how a slave's heartbeat can communicate. "Shh," he murmured in Noisy's ear. "I'm not going to hurt you, if." He paused. "I need someone who can tell me what more I need. You are going to teach me that. "Noisy moved his arm, and touched the scar on his throat. "I know that, but I know you can tell me in other ways. You're smart, little one." Noisy stiffened a little at the endearment. "No, now, none of that, I am still a master." The mute slave tried to relax. "When the others start their little mating games, you come with me. Hear me?" Noisy nodded, and CyKill let him go.

There was quiet when they returned. They went through the routine as normal, but the talk was subdued and CyKill saw how the eyes of the others kept going from him to Noisy. This time, when the couples would normally start separating, the other slaves went into two groups, one drawing Noisy, and the other CyKill.

CyKill found himself in the middle of a circle, and the atmosphere was tense. "Look, Muscle, "the one called Squint said, "We just wanted to make something clear, here. Noisy, he's usually able to take care of himself, but we all know he's a lot younger than any of us. He got found, and never went to the farms or the mines, and that means he never got bred. It was hard luck that got him shoved in this kind of work so young, let alone whatever happened to him that got him left in the middle of nowhere without his voice."

At this point Grunt spoke up. "He's never took up with anyone we know of. Scrapper kept an eye on him when he was younger and still looked like a stick. Since then he's looked after himself. If he wants to take up with you, that's his business and yours, but he don't know what to do."

Squint said, "If he don't want it, you ain't getting it. We all agreed on that. And he does want it, you be careful with him. He don't know what to do, he can't talk, and you hurt him, we'll all have the master looking at us too close. You got me?"

CyKill had cram down his anger. This was the problem with hiding too well. To them he was just another human who might hurt a member of their crew, which would affect the work and might just interfere with their pleasure. "Got it."

"Good," they all said, and everyone drifted back to camp.

So CyKill began taking Noisy aside and in the dim light of the moon or by the muted light of the fire, Noisy would explain what he saw. Some things would take a kind of upgrade, like the sweat from the skin or the tears from the eyes. Cosmetic changes should be easy, like the skin blemishes. Some things would only need some practice, like when to need a drink, or some acting, like the food preferences. There was little he could do about the problem with movement.

He decided that Noisy was much more intelligent that he showed. It took patience to communicate what he saw, but CyKill believed his methods made the problem clearer than if anyone just told him. Seeing Noisy imitate the stiffness of some of his moves clarified that problem better than words alone ever could.

In the meantime, he began exploring the art of human touching, both to learn and to keep the illusion that they were private for the same reason the others were. Noisy occasionally had a bruise until CyKill learned how to discipline his strength. He found that light movement over the skin of the back and arms helped the young slave relax, especially when the work was hard and the muscles underneath the skin were tight. Once or twice Noisy fell asleep under his hands.

He found some pain points as well, though he only pursued those when he was displeased with his teacher. This was rare, as Noisy believed that the sooner Cykill learned what he knew, the sooner Cykill would leave him alone. CyKill let him keep his illusions. Noisy knew too much, and despite being mute, he communicated when he needed to.

Other touching led to some involuntary reactions on Noisy's part. CyKill knew that those reactions in other slaves were a prelude to close body contact, and he would stop. Noisy would draw away. At the same time, he knew the other slaves wanted to react like that, and went much further, often messily, sometimes noisily. He kept his explorations to touch, but he started to ignore Noisy's silent protests to see what would happen.

It was not the touch he wanted, as he had no human reactions, though he might need to be able to imitate them later. Now, he just wanted to see the effect the actions had on Noisy. He enjoyed the feeling of control he got from forcing Noisy teach him; he found that he liked the feeling of control he got as he learned Noisy's responses to his touching. He never violated the young body as the other slaves did each other. That was below him. But the touching, done right, was effective.

When Noisy tried to draw away, indicating that there was nothing more he could teach, CyKill would not allow it. Noisy tried to leave for the fire, where the other slaves were. CyKill stopped him easily, and let the slave struggle. "I am the master, "he murmured, and used the pain points until Noisy stopped struggling in his grip, breathing hard. "We aren't finished until I say." He forced the slave to the ground. He was intoxicated with the feeling of control he got from Noisy's body underneath him, rigid with fear. He started the light rubbing on the back and shoulders, and the slave relaxed under his hand. Eventually he slept.

The next evening Noisy refused to leave the fire after the evening meal. Cykill could tell that the rest of the crew could sense Noisy's upset, and they stayed between Noisy and CyKill. That angered CyKill, but if he were one human against all of them, he would not have a hope of succeeding and he knew it. The project had a few weeks yet to run. He was patient.

Two days later he found a chance. Noisy went to void in the middle of the night. CyKill slipped out and caught him on his way back. "Little fool," he hissed into Noisy's ear as he struggled. "Do you want the punishment for disobeying a direct order?"

That stopped him. Fifty lashes was a harsh sentence; when a whip was used to deliver it, the slave often died.

"Anyone can hurt you. I want to possess you. I want to overwhelm you. I want you to fear me and crave me. That's real power, sweet." As he spoke, his hands moved, finding pleasure points. Noisy's body responded to him, and Cykill heard and felt a sob escape him. Primus, but the feeling of power that gave him was sweet!

"All right, that's enough."

Noisy jolted at that mechanical voice, reaction gone. CyKill snarled, let go, and waited until his unwilling partner was clear before transforming. The Pretender faced Scrapper calmly, as Noisy moved into the shadow of the master who had always protected him. "I trust there is an explanation of this perversity," Scrapper added.

"No perversity. I'm one of Soundwave's projects." He indicated Noisy. "He was the only one who was intelligent enough to see that I was not human. I needed to know how. He has been teaching me."

Scrapper growled. "I doubt Soundwave ever intended for you to take it that far. That is absolutely disgusting. "He glanced down at Noisy, who was in the proper submissive posture. "If you were human, I'd whip you. As it is, I will make a report, and you will head back to base. Now."

Noisy sent a grateful glance at his supervisor. Scrapper could make a slave feel flayed when he handed out a scolding, but he seldom switched anyone and never did without reason. For him to whip a slave, especially a member of his crew, meant that he was seriously offended.

CyKill merely smiled. "Go right ahead and make your report, but you can't order me out of here. I'm not under your command and I am under orders. Noisy has been quite helpful, and I was just rewarding him." He saw Noisy's hands clench, though the slave wisely kept his head down.

"And that's real power?" CyKill wanted to curse. So the old scrap heap heard that, did he? "I was watching to make sure Noisy was willing. Noisy was never bred and has never been with one of the other slaves, so he has nothing to teach there, and I could tell you were forcing him. I don't call that a reward." He paused. "We both know Soundwave will be more disgusted than I am. You know how he feels about humans."

CyKill did know. "That changes nothing," he said, shrugging. "I was following orders. When Noisy guessed what I was, I ordered him to help me. He will continue to do so, until this assignment ends and I go back to base, at which time he will come with me and Soundwave will decide what is to be done from there. If I have to leave now," he shrugged and transformed his arm to his weapon, beginning to power it. "Or would you prefer to do it?"

CyKill expected Noisy to show fear, to beg somehow, to ask for his life. The slave's entire body tensed and his hands were clenched into white knuckled balls, but he held still. CyKill could not decide if he were disappointed or glad. He wanted to completely dominate Noisy; at the same time, he admired Noisy's courage.

Then the weapon powered down. "You forgot that I have override on your weapon systems," Scrapper stated coolly. "You can revert to your human alt mode and go back to being treated as a member of my crew, or you can leave for base. That's up to you. But I do not intend to allow you to molest," he spat the word out," one of my crew unless I'm specifically ordered to, and I will confirm what you're saying. Now get out of my sight."

When CyKill was gone, Scrapper looked down at Noisy. "He's gone." Noisy looked up, and his eyes started to leak. Scrapper sighed. "I can watch you to the end of the assignment," he said unhappily, "but if he's correct-"the construction con trailed off. Noisy wiped his face and nodded. "Come on then. I guess I don't have to tell you to keep quiet."

Noisy was withdrawn after that. He worked as usual, but on the second day after the confrontation, Scrapper rearranged the work crew, taking Noisy off the cutter. At first Noisy was relieved, thinking that Scrapper was keeping him from CyKill, but on break, the human imitator sat by him and said, "Scrapper and I both made reports." Noisy drank his water and looked at him. "We're to finish this assignment, and then I'll be taking you with me to my base. "

Noisy went back to work, feeling numb. Once he was off the work crew, he knew what he could expect from CyKill on the way to his original assigned base, wherever that was. He was startled by a hand on his arm. CyKill was pulling him. Noisy pulled away. "The tree's coming down," the pretender said, and pulled him into a safe zone. The cutter whined as they waited; Noisy took the chance to edge further away from the pretender. He heard shouts, and looked up. The tree was coming down wrong, and he was under it. CyKill grabbed him and ran, hauling him faster than he could run. Noisy stumbled and fell. CyKill lost his grip and slowed, turning back to see Noisy flat on his face and the tree coming fast. He heard a rushing sound before the tree slammed him to the ground.

CyKill fought his way through the branches, not bothering to hide his strength this time; he was in the outer branches and his injuries could be dismissed even in a human. It was all for nothing. He found Noisy, with a branch the thickness of several fingers impaling him. Blood seeped around it. Noisy was writhing in pain, soundlessly screaming. Bellowing in rage, CyKill got his hand behind Noisy's back and broke off the branch. He broke off the front as close as he could the body, and then he pulled the branch out from the back.

Noisy bled to death in less than a minute

.

"He raped you?" Bumblebee's voice was shot with static in his indignation.

_Molested_, Sam corrected. _He never went as far as rape. It was not just that, Bee. It was how helpless I was to do anything. He was not interested in rape for pleasure. He was interested in dominating me. _Sam was feeling less upset that he thought he would be_. _He was pretty sure there was more in that pill than a painkiller._ I know now that he was training to come here. I should be able to write the report now. _

Bumblebee found a datapad for him. When he had the report written, Bumblebee took it away and shortly afterward Willie appeared with a thermos and a snack. One sniff had Sam reaching for the thermos. "I remembered how much you enjoyed the coffee before," Willie said, "and I'm being driven crazy by the other guys, they seem to think I shouldn't be working at all. And you're in here going crazy because you can't move and you're really hurt."

Sam sipped coffee, inhaling the wonderful aroma, and nibbled at the snack. It was some kind of vegetable, and he crunched it with appreciation. He put them both down and signed a thank you. Willie nodded. Sam gave him a raised eyebrow, as Willie looked like he wanted to say something but was hesitating. Willie made small talk until Sam finished the snack.

"Sam, a lot of things just don't add up. " Sam raised his eyebrows and made a 'go on' motion with the hand. "I know for sure that you were a slave on Earth. If nothing else listening to those Decepticons talking to you confirmed that." He shivered. "I understand what you mean now about if I ever met a Decepticon I would be lucky to survive."

Sam nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Anyway, I know you were a slave. But slaves don't learn to fight. I showed you how to fire that weapon, in theory, but you handled it like an expert. I know that most bots make you jumpy, but you ran to Bumblebee and Ironhide like they were family you hadn't seen for years and years. You cried, you were so glad to see them, and Bumblebee's been acting more protective than my mother and sister do. You know how to read and write, and how to use a datapad, but Jetfire said humans don't read or write anymore. You walked up to Rodimus like you'd known him all your life and he acted like you were another Prime or something. Who are you?"

_Samuel James Witwicky_, Sam wrote, and drank coffee.

"Yeah," Willie said. "You're _the_ Samuel James Witwicky. The Sire, the one whose genetics the original parents used to found the line. I don't know how you can be that old, and look so young and be that all, but it all fits."

Sam swallowed. He considered. Then he nodded, extracted a promise to keep what he told Willie quiet, and explained in detail. Willie read, with one or two questions. At the end he nodded, saying that now it all made sense.

The young engineer gnawed his lip and looked at the berth. "You know, when a child is conceived through the sperm banks, only the computer is supposed to know who the father is," he said. "But I really wanted to know, so I got into the computer." He flushed. "Normally my mom would have been turned down as my brother was an adult when he died. But my mom-you'd have to know her. They finally gave her a chance. I know now they really didn't want my mom to succeed, so they gave her the oldest batch they had still available. "

Sam put the thermos down.

"Most kids from the sperm banks can't meet their sire, because only the dead are in there, "Willie went on. He raised his eyes and met Sam's gaze. "I guess I just got lucky."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Thanks for all the reviews, they keep me going. Sorry this is later than usual, but I was not able to work on anything this weekend.

I do not own Transformers (sigh).

From the personal notes of Miranda Witwicky:

_ I met with Samuel James Witwicky for the first time today. I put him into isolation until such time as I can be sure what kind of diseases he might be vulnerable to from here. My son Willie is allowed to visit until quarantine is over, as he had already been in close contact; Ratchet assured me that Sam is not currently harboring any illnesses. In the meantime, I am providing information on the human culture in the space stations so that this unfortunate man can begin to acclimate a little. I am also authorizing several snacks a day in the hope of increasing his weight. A Psyche will come in to evaluate his mental health as soon as possible. . _

_On exam, I find a tall male. He is underweight, though Ratchet informs me that he has gained since boarding the ship; Willie confirms that he and Ratchet had been encouraging Sam to eat every few hours as he is unable to eat much at a time. He suffered two injuries during the space battle that my son Willie was also involved in. One was a cut in the shoulder that is closed and healing well. The other is a deep penetrating wound in the thigh, which is also healing well. _

_ He states via the antique datapad he uses to communicate that he has seldom been in the sun in the last several years. The paleness of his skin confirms this statement. Physically he looks to be in his early twenties. He is well developed, stronger than the norm here, which I find remarkable considering his malnutrition. He has bright green eyes and white hair. I would say that he is quite attractive. _

_At the section of his neck near the shoulders, encircling the entire neck, he has a ring of white indented skin, with signs that he constantly wore something against that part of his skin. He stated that for years he wore a device he called a collar. Willie described the device as well. I am appalled that such a thing is being used on humans on Earth and if not for the proof visible on Sam's skin, I would doubt the truth of the statement. _

_ There is evidence of a healed wound in the throat, with a scar on the neck, which indicates that Sam lost his vocal cords as a child. The prosthesis is being built at this time and will be ready at the time Sam is out of quarantine. Barbara Epps tells me that Sam needs his voice as soon as possible. She is being something of a nag about the visitation, but in this area I feel we must be cautious. Sam is being very cooperative regarding the situation. Besides using a datapad for communication, he is an excellent mime, and he also uses his hands in a language of signs. Some of the bots understand it. Bumblebee visits as often as I allow, and will translate for me. Watching Sam use his hands to talk is an interesting experience. _

Mulah, Psyche therapist that specialized in human beings, found a totally fascinating subject in Samuel James Witwicky. He was unique.

Sam simply answered Mulah's questions honestly, via the computer. The truth was fantastic, but Rodimus and William Witwicky believed him. Rodimus was Prime. Mulah understood what that meant better than most humans. William Witwicky was the child of Miranda Witwicky, and he did not lie, having had that vice removed from him by his mother, who in addition to being a medic on a par with Ratchet, was the best human lie detector Mulah or any Psyche had ever met.

Mulah read. Then he held out his hand. Having no idea what the Psyche wanted, Sam slowly reached his own hand out, and on Mulah nodding his approval, laid it over Mulah's. To an outsider, they stayed still for several moments, before both broke the contact at the same time.

Mulah sensed the dread in Sam before they touched, and he radiated reassurance. On contact, the telepath received a burst of painful memories. He endured them, letting the images flow. After a time, he came to the one that defined the change in his patient, and beyond. The truths of Sam's statements were verified immediately, but Mulah had not intention of stopping there. He sensed that this rush was a prelude to something, and he used his control, honed over several decades of dealing with pain in humans and his own people, to wait it out.

Then he found it, the bright shining being that was housed inside the human, and almost broke contact there at the shock. This was what brought Sam back, in the body of the human teenager he was when he first absorbed it. It was seeking another part of itself, and Sam was its refuge until that part could be found. Sam could not use the power that defined the being. The power could be directed through him without his conscious knowledge. Mulah understood that the renewal of sparks that the Decepticons used their shard for was drawing from the being submerged in the human. The Matrix used it to complete Rodimus's transformation into a Prime.

Mulah also discovered that the being was slowly gaining a rudimentary personality, as it began to be aware through Sam, to the point that it would not renew those who killed or hurt Sam.

With an effort, he pulled back, and concentrated on Sam.

The human, whose full name was Samuel James Witwicky, thought of himself as Sam. This was always the core personality he renewed with, but as each new life imposed its needs, he adapted his personality to those needs. He was a living example of how adaptable humans could be when under pressure.

The personalities were compartmentalized and he tended to think of them as separate people, organizing the knowledge and experiences that way. The mental technique allowed him to compartmentalize the pain he experienced as those personalities, and kept him sane. Mullah had to approve, and believed that the being that resided in Sam stored that information as well, giving him better access to the memories.

At that point they both broke the contact. For a time they regarded each other. Then Mulah led Sam into the next room, where Miranda and Ratchet waited. "Yes, Sam is sane," he said through his communicator. "Yes, the information he has provided is true. He is the original Samuel James Witwicky who died in the hand of Optimus Prime. He also holds another being inside him." Miranda started. "I believe, from the power that it controls, this is the All-Spark you have mentioned. " He looked at Sam. "I am going to speak of this, if you agree." Sam nodded. "It chose Sam because he was available and able to hold it. He is not able to use the power himself; he only gives it a refuge. Devices can use that power, if they were either part of the All-Spark, as the shard is, or an artifact made to utilize similar power, as the Matrix is. "He paused. "I would be willing to believe that the shard on Earth is no longer renewing sparks. Sam is too far away."

"Will this be a problem, Sam?" Rodimus asked. Sam nodded. "I got a download from Bumblebee, try to tell me why." Sam's hands moved in their intricate dance. "Yes, I can see that. Sam said that one of the reasons some of the Decepticons stay with Megatron is because they have a way of being renewed by the shard if they are killed. If Megatron no longer controls the All-Spark that is left, he loses part of his power." Sam's hands danced again. "Sam says that when Megatron lost Sam, who was considered Megatron's private property, he lost some of his standing with his people. He's lost Soundwave, who was his strongest supporter. The last sets of Decepticons who came remember being defeated by the Alliance."

"Getting Sam back will give him the working shard again, and help him regain his prestige with his troops," Miranda said slowly.

"And Sam has strong and very unpleasant memories of a Decepticon who was able to pass for human among slaves, and when he noticed that Sam knew him for what he was, he forced Sam to tell why," Mulah added. "Sam, there is no need to feel guilt over this situation, you were in an impossible position. I am making the point that you do have reason to be afraid."

"Then we will protect you to the best of our ability," Rodimus said. "More I cannot promise, Sam, but that we can do. We need what you know, and we want to help you put that hell you lived behind you. We will begin by giving you a voice."

From the personal diary of Barbara Epps:

_That old bag Miranda Witwicky finally let poor Sam Witwicky out of the infirmary, with the order-to me!- not to let him talk too much yet. She said that Sam had responded in detail to all the requests for information we have made, and that he needs to get used to using the new prosthesis. _

_ You know, if Willie was not the father of one of my children, I'd just cut her off and let Ratchet see Sam for medical needs. Primus knows he's competent enough. But Willie is very protective of Sam and Miranda, whatever other faults she has, is an excellent medic. _

_ The funny part is that Sam sometimes forgets he HAS a voice and uses his hands to talk, which is something else to watch. Willie keeps a small ball in his pocket that he has been throwing at Sam when he does that. I have one like it, a present from Sam, not Willie. Sam's sense of human breaks through in odd places and always catches everyone by surprise, as he is very serious most of the time, a product of his years as human soldier fighting what he knew was a losing battle and from being a slave. . _

_ Rodimus is insisting that Sam live in the area set aside for the bots for safety reasons. The one thing Miranda and I agree on is that Sam needs to be with people. He needs family contact, and I want to provide that as much as possible. He was deliberately kept from other people, can you believe that? Before he got on the ship and saw Willie, he did not see another human for years! Mulah, the Psych who is working with Sam, agrees that Sam desperately needs human contact outside of work. I spoke with Sarahlee Witwicky, the head of the Witwicky family line, who says that Sam is a Witwicky and therefore is their family's responsibility. He will be staying in the Witwicky family compound for his recovery time out of surgery. _

_ He does look much better since I saw him on the transmission, though the clothes Willie and I got him do help a lot. He was terribly thin then, though some of that was the black outfit he wore. I could not believe it when Rodimus said he had the pet that Megatron wanted, and Sam came into view. Then the Prime put the collar on. I don't think I have ever been so angry before in my entire life as when Megatron stated that Sam was his personal property. I want Sam to work with me, and in the meantime I intend to see that he gets what he needs if I have to boot both Rodimus and Miranda in the rear to do it._

Willie Witwicky was packing to go to the Scout for a routine trip. He would be gone for several days; he needed to give the ship a complete check. Rodimus and the general Alexander Lennox were determined to have all the ships ready should the Council decide to begin action.

Willie understood, as did all of the security forces and most of the militia, that should Sam be taken by any means, the war was on. While all of them were fond of Sam, the reason for the plans had to do with what he carried. They could not afford for Megatron to regain the All-Spark and begin to rebuild his army. In addition, Sam was proving priceless as an adviser for dealing with Megatron without starting active hostilities.

Sam told them from the beginning that Megatron intended to keep Earth and begin to undermine the Alliance by weakening them from within. He made a long list of possibilities that his former master spoke about using. Rodimus, Alex, the Psych representatives, and the family heads of each colony took a part of the list and began searching.

Fully half of the list materialized. As they traced causes, they kept running into dead ends on the computer. Jetfire and Ironhide agreed that the infiltration had a Decepticon signature on it. In the meantime, most of the problems that Megatron's agitators were capitalizing on were dragged out into the open by the various organizations and being addressed. Alex Lennox assigned a team to monitor the rest and recheck the list at intervals.

Sam told them from the beginning that Megatron had spies in the form of human pretenders in the space colonies. Mulah confirmed that Sam did have memories of one. Rodimus did not believe that they could pass for human among humans, but he provided Sam with a scanner like the ones the security used to look for weapons before he left the infirmary. Sam routinely scanned anyone he did not know and groups he passed. Within two weeks he had a positive hit; security then scanned after him and got another hit, but too late to catch the one they scanned.

Willie visited Sam often while he was in the infirmary; his mother would not allow anyone else. He found that Sam worked better with his mother than just about any being he ever met. Sam told him that Miranda Witwicky reminded him of _hi_s mother, except she was a lot smarter. He added, wryly, that she treated him like her child, which was funny when he considered that he was more than twice her age.

Miranda Witwicky was an excellent medic, but her bedside manner was often worse than Ratchet's when she thought a patient was his own worst enemy. In Sam's case, she saw the pain and marks of long abuse not only in the wounds and thinness, but in his manner. Her manner softened accordingly. Willie called her before they arrived, and told her how Sam helped him, both in the fight and afterward, and asked her to be kind for his sake.

Once she had him in the infirmary, she started giving him immunizations for the preventable diseases in the colony. She knew that one particular mix was likely to give him a slight fever and aches, so she included a mild painkiller/tranquillizer with it. He fell asleep while working on his computer, and she could not resist poking around on it when she removed it from his lap.

Like Ratchet before her, she read the memoirs, and by the time she finished them, she was crying without shame. She shut the laptop. The next day, she contacted her daughter and the Psyche she used for more difficult cases. She found in both cases that someone had already spoken to both of them. Willie talked to Sarahlee Witwicky, both as her brother and as Sam's advocate, and Barbara Epps had spoken to Mulah. Both promised, to both parties, that Sam would be on their top ten lists of projects to work on.

As a result, Sam spent the two weeks of his convalescence in the heart of the Witwicky family compound, with the youngest children and their caretakers. Willie was a little worried about how Sam would handle that. Sam, after all, never dealt with children. Two weeks later, Willie accompanied Sam to a meeting with Rodimus about living arrangements now that Miranda deemed him ready to face the 'new world' as Sam phrased it. Sam insisted that he be able to stay with the family at least two days a week, an arrangement that Sarahlee had already approved. Rodimus agreed with the condition that Bumblebee be there to guard Sam. Bumblebee and Sarahlee were glad to agree to the terms.

Willie and Barbara Epps both ensured that Sam had social contacts. They had a lot of help in this, as Sam was an object of interest, and because he had the computer and music player. His music was 'antique' and 'different'. People listening would ask for a download. Soon most of the songs that were not rooted in time were circulating, and singers were putting new words to the tunes of others.

Willie also discovered, to his everlasting entertainment, that Sam was getting a lot of female company. He was not at all jealous. He had done his duty in fathering two children, and he had a bonded relationship with Barbara Epps. Sam's female company tended to be mature and plumb. He told Willie that slave women died on the average even younger than the men, and no slave ever got plumb.

Months passed. Sam gained a little weight. He fell into a comfortable routine with the family and the bots; he worked regularly with Barbara Epps and with the Council Security committees.

Willie left on his trip with the _Scout_; Sam and Barbara came to see him off. He watched them as they left. At the same time, he had to wonder when the trouble would start.

Sam refused to sleep with any woman that was fertile, and he told Willie never to tell anyone of their relationship. "I would love to claim you as my son," he wrote. "But any child of mine is at risk. Besides, I never raised you. I am your friend, and that might be dangerous enough."

Willie told him the truth, that he could not admit it without getting into a load of trouble. Hacking the government files was a major crime. When the security experts discovered how much the Decepticon spies were getting into the computers, they went ballistic, and Sam gave Willie a "now I understand" look.

Sam never stopped being afraid. Willie knew that he worked with Mullah on what to do if he were recaptured, and he knew that Sam told Rodimus that if anyone had a choice between seeing Sam die and seeing him captured, to let him die. "I will come back somewhere," he said, in his mechanical voice. "Let me take that chance."

So Willie went on his trip and hoped that nothing happened in his absence, and made the Scout- and every ship he could get to- ready for the battles he feared were coming.

Cykill and his two fellow spies came to the colonies some years ago, and they took some time to integrate into the human society. It took a while for him, Dead End, and Sideways to break into the computer and create a believable background. They managed to acquire positions where work was done through the computer, which meant they could earn money while doing work was not only incredibly simple but that gave them further access to the computer systems.

CyKill integrated enough to actually go out and mingle with humans, and he obtained a human contact which not only allowed him to indulge his 'perversity' but gave him the human perspective on much of the information they gathered. His little pet was not a politician himself, but was attached to one that he was ridiculously loyal to. CyKill did not intervene with his pet's attachment to his family, either, as that gave him some insight into those matters as well. In return, he helped the pet with work on the computer he occasionally brought home to do.

Orders arrived to seize and return Megatron's pet under any circumstances manageable. CyKill and the others were shocked when they discovered that included breaking their covers. Then CyKill saw the pet, and got a jolt when he saw just how much this Samuel James Witwicky resembled Noisy, the mute slave who taught him so much when he was still learning his form.

The next time he went to make a report, he had a long one.

"My lord, I must tell you that your pet has been making some strange claims and the Psyches, Autobots, and the human history authorities are endorsing those claims," he said, uneasy about how the report would be received. He went on to explain that Samuel James Witwicky, whom everyone called Sam, stated that he was in Optimus Prime's hand when the Prime pushed the Cube into his chest, and absorbed part of it. For this reason, when Sam died, he came back, in the form he absorbed the Cube in. He claimed that he worked with the resistance until it was overcome, and was a slave afterward in several different lives. He reported that he died eight different times, and worked different jobs as a slave, the last being Megatron's personal pet.

"And what do you believe?" the master demanded.

"He strongly resembles a slave I worked with when learning to use this form," CyKill admitted. "That slave was mute. My lord, I do believe him, and more importantly, the authorities accept his claim. They say that Rodimus received an ancient artifact, the Matrix of Leadership, from Sam and that Sam was not able to use it, but that it drew power from him to make Rodimus into a full Prime, and that is why he was able to defeat Soundwave. "

Silence reigned for a time, before Lord Megatron said heavily, "The shard has not worked since he left. Soundwave deduced this situation before Jetfire helped Ratchet escape with my pet. Soundwave had already confirmed what Sam is saying now. You understand his importance. You must bring him back."

"This will be difficult, my lord," Cykill told him, frustration strong in his voice. "He is in demand everywhere. Rodimus has him under his personal protection. The Witwicky family has claimed him as their original Sire. He works with the archivist here to record history. He is constantly guarded; if he is in a compound, there is a bot on call near every exit and entrance. He works with the human Council member who is in charge of diplomacy, and she is a carefully guarded as he is. "

"I am well aware of that." Megatron did not say that Barbara Epps was neatly dealing with every claim he made much more easily that she had before, and he was sure that Sam was helping her. She had angered him enough that he made a threat, one he had no intention of following through on. "Can you not find a way to get to him when he sleeps?"

"He is never alone when he sleeps! Women run the human section of this colony. When they found he was exiled from his own kind, they started comforting and it seems a new one comforts him every night! He has one Pit-spawned reputation as a lover, and his body is in its breeding height."

"Offspring?" Megatron would like to have offspring from his pet without having to compromise his own sentence of exile on Sam.

"Not a chance. He's choosing only females who have done their reproductive duty and have their ability to bear children blocked. He said to the human diplomat that he is a target, and any offspring will be a target, so he won't risk children."

"Unfortunate."

"He is wary of anyone he does not already know. He has a very healthy fear of being forced back." CyKill did not blame Sam. He was important, at least now; he was safe from discipline; and he had his human needs met in ways that slaves born on Earth now could not even conceive. Most importantly, he had a voice and the freedom to tell what was happening on Earth.

"Is he urging the colonies to attack us? To free the slaves?" Megatron expected to hear that Sam was campaigning for attack.

"No." CyKill was eager to give the one piece of good news. "He says that in regard to Earth, he cannot say what the Council must or must not do. He does want the situation of the slaves improved, but refuses to endorse a plan of action." CyKill did not say that Sam did not need to. There was a faction that stated openly that Sam's news was all the reason they needed to retake their home world, and who lobbied ceaselessly to begin preparations to invade.

"He is wiser than I thought." Politically, Sam had a much better chance of gaining assistance for the slaves if the colonists felt the idea came from within their ranks. "Find a way to bring him to me. I will make arrangements for you to receive assistance and an immediate supervisor to report to. He will work with you on a means to confine and safely deliver my pet back. I want him in as good condition as you can manage. He must be able to repair himself and sane as a minimum. And Cykill- he had better remain unmolested. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, master."

"Any punishment of my pet is mine alone to give."

CyKill knew that Megatron would not stop until he had his pet back in his hands. CyKill felt a moment of pity for Sam Witwicky when that happened.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Thank you for all the reviews and alerts, they keep me going.

I do not own Transformers or I would be rich.

Sam walked into Barbara's office and stopped, startled. There was a new assistant in the office.

Sam had been at the colonies for what he estimated was half a year and he loved the life he lived here. At first, he accepted the kindnesses that he was offered with the belief that they would be temporary, and that he would be dependent on the bots until he found a way to earn a living.

But the colonial world was far different from the world he was raised in. The language had shifted, but not terribly. Part of what he did every night was record what new terms he used that the colonists did not know, and definitions. When the colonists started dealing with slaves, they would need to know more of the vocabulary.

Bumblebee managed to visit with Sam while he was in quarantine. Sam signed, _How did the family lines come about? And Simmons? The rest I can kind of understand_.

"The family lines were more who settled on what space colony and who the colonies were named for," Bumblebee explained. "The first one was Lennox. Not after Will, really, but after Sarah and Annabelle. Sarah was one of the colony leaders, and Annabelle was the human security head when she became an adult."

Willie chimed in that the four parents that founded the Witwicky family line were the leaders of the next space colony, followed by the Epps family line. The last family was Simmons, who was led by Sandra Simmons. _**Simmons never married but he did have two sisters who came with us,**_ Bumblebee signed to Sam. _**They weren't much like him. Thank Primus. **_

_So it's the colony you came from that determined the line, not who you were descended from_, Sam qualified.

"Well, in a way, "Willie hedged. "Each of the colonies is known for something. The Lennox family colony is generally the center for security. Simmons does most of the food production, and their family guardian is Hound. Epps does a lot of administration, and theirs is Kup."

_And what is the Witwicky family known for?_ Sam asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"We fix things," Willie said. "We're the smart ones."

Bumblebee gave Willie a light poke. "The Witwicky family line houses the infirmary where difficult cases are brought, "he said. "They have the main library. They have the engineering school, and the shipyard. Many of the family have been engineers and medics and scholars. They were the ones who approached the Psyches. They also house the government council, and the Prime resides there for that reason. It's where we're headed, Sam."

_So the Simmons make it, the Epps distribute it, the Lennoxes guard it, and the Witwicky's fix it_, Sam commented. Bumblebee thumped his head while Willie snickered. "Please repeat that to my mom," he said. "It fits her sense of humor."

Sam's time at the family center was full of new experiences. Family centers were where the children were raised until they showed aptitude, at which time they went into training. That could be as early as twelve, as it was for Willie, or as old as seventeen. Every child had to learn basics, but what surprised Sam was how early learning started. Children started learning at one year, though as much as possible the learning was structured as play.

Once a girl gained menarche, she got birth control until her mother, grandmother, or guardian judged she was able to handle childrearing, or took responsibility for raising the child to the age of twenty or the child demonstrated maturity. That gave the girl 'permission' to get pregnant, and she had the birth control removed. After the second child, the birth control was reinstated. Unplanned pregnancies were unheard of.

As the family head, Sarahlee monitored the Witwicky colony as a whole. However, she took the time and trouble to settle Sam in the family compound, and he spent two blissful weeks spending time with women and children. After years where contact with children and women was rare, he was both overjoyed and nervous about dealing with them.

So Sam divided his time between Rodimus, which included spending time on the Lennox compound learning their weapons and getting back into shape; spending time with Barbara Epps in dealing with the diplomacy issues; and staying in the Witwicky family compound. He met and spent time with a lot of curious women.

He visited the Simmons colony and toured the 'farms'. They were amazed when he described how the farms on Earth were run. "You grow plants in _dirt_?" one hydroponics attendant asked blankly, and Sam almost laughed in her face. Hound, the family guardian for Simmons, carefully explained to her that before hydroponics, all plants were grown in dirt, and that Sam could help by advising them on how to grow the new plants that Kup and some of the others had managed to obtain.

The main base for the Autobots was on Lennox. Sam went there regularly with Rodimus and met a lot of the Lennox family. Not all were soldiers or involved in support of the military; they still had a lot of the food and distribution there, as the first colony settled.

Sam found that he was earning a stipend for four different jobs: the diplomacy with Barbara, the military information with Lennox, working with the library and Jetfire on history, and working with the Simmons on growing the new plants.

He was popular at parties for the music on his computer and music player. Yes, Sam was enjoying his life.

Barbara Epps had a very reliable assistant by the name of Grant Lennox. He was not at all military, being much more suited to administration, and was simply a nice quiet guy who did an excellent job, and who adored his two girls. Sam liked him. He was also fairly sure that Grant had a crush on him, something the assistant tried very hard to hide and that Sam carefully overlooked.

Willie confided at one point that he thought Grant was same-sex, in a hushed voice and with a glance around to be sure no one was listening. Sam considered, and explained to Willie that not only was he aware that such things happened, but that it was fairly common in the older slaves, who after all, had no access to women. It took some time for Willie to absorb that information. Sam gathered that while that kind of sexuality was not illegal or anything close, it was frowned on. No place is perfect, he thought sadly.

"Where's Grant?" he asked. The new assistant said Grant was sick and would be out for some time, and that Sam was to go in. As they began work, Barbara noted that Sam was distracted. As they were winding up a conference call, he asked about Grant.

"He needed some medical work done," she said. "It all came in on the computer, which isn't like Grant, but it is allowed. I know he's been a little on edge lately, but he wouldn't tell me about it, said it was a situation he had to work out on his own."

"Who's his medic?" Miranda was listed as the attending medic. Sam called. Grant was not there. Sam considered while Barbara tried to contact Grant at home. The new assistant was a large man, which was now odd for the colonies. When they had the door open, Sam watched his back for a time. He moved stiffly. Some research turned up that he normally worked at home. Sam contacted Rodimus. As a favor to the Prime, someone from Security came by to do a scan; Sam closed the door, locked it, and made sure that the other door was unlocked. Barbara thought he was being paranoid but humored him.

She did not hesitate to run like hell when the shots in the other room started. Sam locked the door to the office from the inside and slammed it behind them; security told him later that it slowed the spy enough that they got him down while he was blasting open the lock.

It was pure luck that no one but the spy was killed. Both offices were trashed, and there were some injuries. The remains were sent to Ratchet, but Sam was sure that the spy was not CyKill.

While Barbara freaked out over the destruction, Sam asked if anyone had found on Grant yet. "We checked on Grant Lennox's home when you called about the assistant," she said, "and as soon as the crap started here, we sent a squad to this new guy's home. We need for you to come, Sam." Barbara insisted on coming as well, despite Sam and security's attempts to ward her off. He tried to warn her it would be ugly; she set her jaw and insisted.

She managed to make it to the waste disposal before she threw up. Sam let her go, taking in the new assistant's room. Grant's body was dressed in the normal shapeless slave outfit, with a steel collar. His wrists and ankles had marks around them. His neck was chaffed under the collar. When they moved the body so that Sam could see his back, Sam could see the neck move oddly. He hoped, in the remote part of his mind that still worked, that Grant had not suffered long.

Sam looked at Grant's back and saw the marks. It was all he could do to keep his voice steady. "Switch marks," he said, glad that his mechanical voice was not capable of inflection. "And he was chained. That's the wrist and ankle marks."

"They were trying to get him to talk?" Sam turned. Carol Lennox, the security director for this area, was walking in.

"Possible. I'm sure that anything they wanted to know, they got." Sam had seen much worse, had suffered much worse, but the people around him- the men were just as upset as the women- did not need to hear that.

For Sam the other room was just as bad. He had to turn away for a moment to gather his courage after the first look. Beside he heard Barbara say, "Is that a cage?"

"Yes," he said. His voice showed static. He breathed a moment, gathering himself, and turned to go over to it. It was a smaller version of the one in Megatron's office, with the waste disposal, the bedding, and the food. There was a different type of water dispenser, adapted for space, and a set of chains set around the bedding. He found sets of his slave clothes, blankets, and the space cleaning solvent in a bolted down trunk. He nodded to himself.

"Well?" Carol said. Sam moved aside to let her in, and showed her. The others watched from outside the bars. The security personnel were about to go ballistic. Barbara, who saw Sam in the clothes and the collar, was a little calmer. One officer from the other room came in with a bundle that clinked.

Sam looked at the chains and the thought of one of the colonists wearing them made him feel a little sick. They were made to go around the ankles and wrists and link to a chain around the waist. The Decepticons stopped using chains like those when there was no longer an organized resistance. "Why are the clothes different from Grant's?" Carol asked.

"I'm Megatron's personal property," Sam explained. "The clothes mark me as that. Grant was dressed in the standard collar and clothes." His face was blank.

"Why would they have the other stuff then?" Barbara asked. She managed to keep her voice steady.

"I don't know," he said, as he stood up and got out of the cage. He showed them what the chains were for and how they worked. The wrist shackles had blood on them. He pointed that out.

Sam reported the incident to Rodimus that evening. Security took him to Lennox colony and the Prime after he had told them as much as possible from the room. "There's more than one," he said, pacing. "That wasn't CyKill, I'm sure of it. I don't understand why they didn't just kill Grant. Why keep him alive? To question him? They would have gotten everything he knew in an hour, just scaring him. Grant was no soldier and he hated the military. That's why he worked with Barbara."

"Sam, what is truly bothering you here? Or would you prefer to speak to Mulah?"

"No, it's not really private. Part of it is just seeing the cage again. Now I know in my gut they are here, that they intend to take me back and that they won't quit until they do." He took a deep breath. "I've been so happy here. I'm a free human with other free humans. But it's not just that, Rodimus."

He turned and looked at the Prime. "I saw one of these free humans treated like a slave- forced into clothes they would never wear here, chained, beaten, and killed, a life just thrown away, another useless death!"

"I know, Sam." Neither of them saw Alex and Carol standing at the door.

"I'd surrender if I thought it would do any good at all, but I'd just be handing him a weapon to use against us all. You have to make a priority to keep the colonies free. Then and only then do we need to deal with Earth." He paced on the table again.

"I have to agree with that," a human voice said. Sam whipped his head over to see Alex and Carol walk up. "Sam, you have my word that if we go to Earth, it will be to keep us safe here, or because we believe that the colonies are safe. Waterfall and our allies are willing to work with us on that. You might also consider that together, humans, Psyches, and the Autobots destroyed the Fallen, and Megatron was there, with the 'cons that he didn't leave on Earth. We beat him, and he's afraid of us. He's trying to get you for exactly the reason you named. "He turned to Rodimus. "Do you agree? I just spoke to Basalm, a lot of that is from him." They climbed the ladder to the table. Sam swiped at his face.

"I do agree with you and the leader of the Psyche military. Sam, I dislike doing this when you have been so strongly reminded of your time as a slave, but you will need to submit to protection for a while. Your safety is part of the safety of this colony. Moreover, this is proof of the threat to these colonies. This will be discussed in Council tomorrow, and you must be there. "Sam nodded.

"In the meantime, you're coming with me," Carol said. "I had no idea you were so upset or I'd have sent you to Mulah. None of this is remotely your fault, and we're in no more danger than we already were. The difference is that we know it. You warned us, and if you hadn't called Rodimus and asked for the scan, Grant would still be dead, the cage would still be there, and you would be in more danger- meaning the colony would be in more danger- than now." She hugged him before taking his hand and leading him away. He went with her. Alex watched them go, and turned to Rodimus.

"She'll get him what he needs," the general said, sounding sad. "Pits, the poor guy finally gets his feet under him, and life had to kick him in the ass again. Sucks to be him." He shook his head. Then he turned to Rodimus, the look changing to one of determination. "Now, let's talk about how we're going to present this to the Council without the hotheads taking over. Sam had a valid point."

Sam attended the Council meeting, as requested. Grant's death and the circumstances were a shock; the proof that Decepticon spies mimicking humans was almost as disturbing, and the fact that they came so close to Sam was just as bad.

In the end, the decision for action was inevitable. Rodimus and Alexander Lennox were able to say that most of the fleet was in good shape, that Waterfall and the other allied species, with their planets, agreed to provide extra security details to work with militia left behind. The priority was to find the spies and the Decepticon ship serving them, before moving on to deal with Megatron and the remaining Decepticons.

Security had looked at Grant's private diary. Grant had become a close friend to the spy, without ever knowing what he was. From the way some of the entries were written, Sam could tell that the two were more than friends, but only someone who suspected would hear it; Grant was careful even in his private notes.

Then Grant began to be troubled, not so much by his friend, but by the men his friends shared quarters with. He began to distance himself from his friend, and the friend did not take that well, to the point where Grant began to be afraid, and he made an appointment to see a Psyche at the urging of the mother of his girls.

Sam was able to put the situation together now. Grant was a totally innocent pawn, who found the wrong someone to share his needs with. He said at one point that his friend had some physical problems, and that he sought comfort with Grant. CyKill, Sam thought with rage and sadness. Of course CyKill could never be what most lovers would expect, but with Grant, who was probably ashamed of his same-sex needs, his 'disability' would be a blessing. Grant could fool himself that what they shared was not sex, and still have his cravings met. Then he started to see signs that something more than the disability was off, and when he tried to withdraw, CyKill would have been insulted.

The last straw would have been the Psyche; CyKill would have equated them with what Soundwave could do, and he could not allow that. Someone who could see past the sexual haze Grant was operating under would have seen CyKill's behavior for what it was, and acted to put a stop to it.

Sam had to wonder why CyKill had not just killed his lover, but he remembered that CyKill had not wanted to kill Noisy either. If CyKill had seen Grant as a possession, then Sam could see him claiming Grant as a slave and beginning to teach him his place. In that case, the blow that killed Grant may have been no more than a mistake, a blow that did more damage than intended.

The association with an unsuspecting human would explain how they could manage to move in human society as well. They would have had Grant's responses to CyKill to base their behavior on. They could get insight on human family and government structure from Grant as well, and the human point of view on matters. His position as Barbara's assistance could not have hurt.

Then Ratchet spoke, talking about what he found on the spy. By the time he finished, Sam was sure that this one was not Cykill. At that point, the cage was dragged in.

It took some time for the Council head to get calm. It did not help when Carol went over the cage, showing the various provisions that any human would need to survive for a period of time in the cage. The food packages were opened and samples of the food distributed to the Council. "You actually ate this stuff?" one of the humans asked. The Psyches tried it as well. One of them managed to swallow the stuff. The others spit it out.

Rodimus, with Alexander Lennox to back him, used the points Sam brought up. Sam, asked to speak, added another.

"What Grant endured was a taste of everyday life for a slave, " Sam told them. "But I have to add this. The slaves on Earth will need a lot of help. They have been kept totally dependent on their Decepticon masters all their lives. You are asking for chaos if some kind of structure is not provided until they can learn to stand on their own. That must be planned for in some way. "

Mulah was one of the Psyche representatives. "How valid is the fear that the slaves will be slaughtered if we attack Earth?"

"The humans' use to the Decepticons is as workers," Sam said. He hesitated. "That does not mean that all Decepticon supervisors will be willing to kill their own charges. I know several of my supervisors would hesitate. But- Grant thought one of those spies was his friends. You saw what they did to him. The Decepticons have that name for a reason."

Rodimus said, "We saw how the Decepticons acted on Cycle." That was the Psyche colony world the Fallen tried to destroy.

"But these were not people they had worked with. I have seen a pattern in Sam's memories that he has not noticed. As the humans lost their ability to fight back and were integrated as slaves into the Decepticon society, the attitudes of the Decepticons who work with humans has changed. Their treatment of slaves is still deplorable, but as they no longer see the humans as threats, many of them see humans as responsibilities. They have learned that taking care of their human's needs has increased the usefulness of their charges."

He paused. "The supervisors that worked well with Sam in his various lives were well regarded as efficient supervisors, enough that they were sent to see Ratchet when he was forced to work as their medic. From what Ratchet and Sam said, that was a mark of a valued Decepticon. I believe that while we must remember, as Sam says, that Decepticons have that name for a reason, we also remember that all of them are not heartless killing machines. "

The Council ended on that somewhat less grim note, with the firm decision made that the hunt for the spies would escalate, that Sam would be constantly protected, and that the arrangements for war would escalate.

Thus it was that Sam went to meet Willie from his last trip with two human guards. The part of the spaceport where they were meeting the space engineer was in the human section, where bots had a hard time moving around, but the security did have weapons which would work against the smaller Decepticons like the spies.

They got to the area Willie's message indicated. "Where is he?" Sam wondered out loud, frustrated. He needed a sounding board, and Willie was the only one who was not trying to dance around his feelings. He was more than glad to get the message that Willie was coming in a little early and would Sam meet him as everyone else seemed to have plans?

Rodimus wasn't available to check with, but Sam's security had checked the message and the information on the computer and agreed to go with him. When there was no ship and no Willie, they started to call main security and could not get through.

Shots rang out and both guards fell. "Don't move!" someone yelled from behind him. Sam dropped instead, grabbing for the weapons. He came up in time to see a human form coming at him at an inhuman speed. He fired and ran, turning when he reached doors to fire again. Despite one of the shots hitting the human form in the leg, the man kept coming. Sam headed for the bots' side of the spaceport, using as many doors as he could, trying to raise anyone on his datapad with no luck. Communication in the area was down, it said.

He could hear the pretender gaining on him, though the shots made him hesitate. Sam got through the last door to a wide corridor and turned to shoot, only to find his ammunition was gone. He ran anyway. When he heard the transform he desperately headed for the closest human sized door.

One hard blow sent him tumbling. He tried to roll to his feet, only to be knocked down again. This time the bot held him down and turned Sam to his back to face him. Sam exercised his prosthesis creatively at the height of its volume and struggled as hard as he could.

CyKill believed that the master's pet would surrender as soon as he knew he was caught. Slaves knew very well just how useless it was to fight a master. After a time, when Sam did not show any signs stopping either the fighting or cursing, despite not having repeated himself in several minutes, he put fingers over Sam's throat, pressing until both stopped. When he judged the lesson was learned, he let up and the human gulped air. "That's the first time I've heard you live up to your name, Noisy," he said, amused.

"Noisy died," Sam spat, still panting.

"Too bad, he knew how to behave with his masters." He let go of Sam's throat and grabbed his arms. "You can make this easy or hard. Make it hard, and I'll see you remember why I'm the master."

Sam made it hard. He fought every step of the way. He knocked over anything he could grab on the way, cursed constantly as loud as he could manage, and anytime CyKill was in the least bit distracted, he tried to break free. CyKill got the annoying lesson that mothers learn with two year old children- no matter how small or harmless a being might be, one that is determined to throw a fight is going to slow anything down.

Sam was stalling, hoping against hope that a bot-any bot- would hear him.

As he went from amused, to annoyed, and to angry, CyKill went from dragging, to bruising grips, and to light blows. Underneath the anger, CyKill was beginning to wonder if Sam was still sane. The Decepticon ship was on the other side of the Autobot base. CyKill was taking ways not often used, which made it longer. It was not a short walk for a bot CyKill's size, and longer for a human. Sam had not stopped struggling or cursing the entire way. He contacted his supervisor, letting him know that he had the master's pet and what was happening.

The response was curt. That kind of behavior was expected, if deplorable. "Bring him in, but do as little damage as you can. We can deal with the rest on the way back to Earth." CyKill slammed Sam against a wall, sending him to his knees with the breath knocked out of him. While Sam was busy regaining his breath, CyKill threw Sam over his shoulder, intending to carry him the rest of the way. Sam went berserk, fighting like a demon and screaming when he could get the breath.

Cursing, CyKill dropped him, and then kicked him. Bones cracked. The sound Sam made was actually softer, a surprised grunt. The next kick hit Sam in the belly.

There was another kick, but the scream was CyKill's.

Sam saw CyKill start to reach for him, and he knew that this time all the fight was out of him. He was curled around agony, both in his chest and his belly. Breathing hurt. Then CyKill was flying, and Bumblebee was there, bending over him. "Help is coming," Bumblebee was saying, even as Kup kicked CyKill to Hound, and Hound kicked him to Ironhide.

"You tried to take one of mine as a slave," Ironhide said, snarling, his foot on CyKill. "Then you killed him."

"He was mine! He knew he was mine, until that female got in the way," CyKill shrieked. "He came to find me and the others- they had no right, he was mine! He needed me!"

Ironhide glared at him. Then he lifted his foot. CyKill whirled and fired. Bumblebee moved Sam just in time, and the shot hit the wall, covering the sound of Ironhide's foot coming down.

But weeks later, Sam woke up to see bars around him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Thanks to nessus, SkyHighFan, Marinelife, and Sanzo4ever for pointers-your help is appreciated! And thanks to everyone who leaves reviews, they keep me going.

I do not own Transformers or I would be working on the third movie and not this fanfiction.

Primus, another nightmare, he thought, gazing at the bars of his cage. Miranda really needs to start giving me a different painkiller. Though he had to admit this bad dream was different from the ones where CyKill managed to drag him to the Decepticon ship and use him for a Grant substitute. The other was seeing Bumblebee being destroyed by Megatron, while Sam realized he was in the Cube, still aware. He woke up in cold sweats several times in the last two weeks.

It was two weeks since CyKill's death after trying to take Sam. Rodimus chewed Ironhide out for killing the Pretender when there was another one still at large. "It's hard to interrogate a corpse," he complained, as Ratchet took the remains to see what he could get from them.

After the leader got Miranda's report, however, he rescinded the punishment detail he had in mind and instead assigned Ironhide to help find the ship CyKill was heading for. Sam was in critical condition just out of surgery. Three blood transfusions later, he was stable, but the reports and holos Rodimus got from Sparkplug and Bumblebee made him wish CyKill was alive so the Prime could kill the spy personally.

Bumblebee got Sam to Miranda just in time; he was about to bleed to death from a ruptured spleen. He had broken ribs, a ruptured lung, and an impressive array of bruises. Miranda had to put the IV in his neck because she could not find a vein in his arms.

He was going home to the Witwicky family center to finish his recovery, just as he had when he had his prosthesis in. He had four more weeks of recovery to go, she said, but that was better done at home where he could be around other people and recover more comfortably. The child caretakers were willing to keep an eye on him, in addition to both Willie and Barbara taking some personal time to spend with him the first two weeks.

The _Scout_, with Willie and Sparkplug on board, had received a puzzled query from Rodimus about two hours before they were due to come in, wanting to know why their arrival time had changed. That query, along with Sam's frantic struggle, got Bumblebee and the other family guardians to the spaceport in time to stop the kidnapping. Bumblebee was busy getting Sam to medical help, and the others could not find the Decepticon ship or the last pretender in the spaceport.

The human community was in an uproar over the deaths of the security officers with Sam and Sam's condition. The administrators were almost as upset over the computer breach. The Psyches at the station were working hard to calm the humans.

Mulah came to see Sam as soon as Sam was aware of the world around him. "Help me prepare," Sam said with a calm that was more due to shock than to control. "I know now that I can get taken. Help me know how to deal with it or I just might go insane if it does happen."

Miranda arranged for Sam to have constant company. Willie and Barbara spent hours with him. Most of his lovers came by for an hour or so, which helped quite a bit. Sarahlee came, and talked about the babies and caretakers Sam knew. Carol and Alexander came to tell Sam about the ongoing search. Slowly he began to relax.

Sparkplug and Bumblebee took turns staying with Sam at night. More than once Sam spent some painful night hours talking to Bumblebee, reminiscing and exchanging stories. Miranda told him that he strained the voice prosthesis, shouting so much, and to not raise his voice if he could help it, and to tell her or Ratchet if he started to feel something wrong in his throat.

But the nightmare refused to go away, despite his attempts to think it away.

He tried to move, and found he was chained, but the chains were padded. He tried raising himself to his elbows, but that hurt his stomach where he still had some stitches. Miranda would yell at him if he strained them even in a nightmare. He saw that he had a blanket over him. The room outside the bars was empty and boring, except for the hole in the wall, which was black and equally boring. He tried moving his legs, and found they were chained too.

He was almost relieved to see Razorclaw come into the room and bend down to look at him. That meant it had to be a nightmare. Not only would Razorclaw never leave Earth and his breeding farms, but he would not have chained Sam; the breeder liked using drugs and psychological threats a lot better than brute force.

"Awake, I see," Razorclaw said. His voice was soft and encouraging. Everyone talked to Sam like that nowadays except Ratchet and Miranda. "I need to examine you." Opening the cage, the Decepticon removed the blanket. Sam shivered, as he had only the sorry hated hospital gown on.

Sam knew he looked awful, as it seemed there was not an inch on his arms, legs, or face they did not have a bruise or cut somewhere from his attempts to slow down CyKill and be heard, and even after two weeks of healing, they still looked awful, still purple and blue in some places, and ugly green in others. But it still had to be a dream, because no Decepticon would talk to a slave like that.

Razorclaw looked him over. "You are still damaged," he mused, "but I have trouble believing you survived those injuries. " He cleaned Sam as he examined, using the same solvent the humans used in space. When Sam started to shiver, the breeder covered the parts he had already cleaned and examined with the blanket. When he was finished, he dressed Sam, using the same soft black slave clothes that marked him as Megatron's property.

. "You should have known better than to fight like that," he chided as he brushed his fingers over the neat stitches on Sam's left abdomen and the bruises on the rest of him with great care, and moved the moistened washcloth over him. "All this pain and damage was for nothing. You had to know we would take you eventually."

Now, that did sound like a Decepticon, especially Razorclaw. Sam looked up at him, remembering one of his talks with Mulah. "We saw at our battle with the Fallen and I see from your memories that the Decepticons are masters of verbal abuse," the Psyche told Sam. "In one way, your muteness stood you in good stead there. You could not engage them verbally, and that limited that kind of interaction with you. "

Sam remembered his advice, as well. "Don't respond to that kind of abuse," the Psyche advised. "If at any time you must deal with Decepticons, including Megatron, never forget that they have decades of learning how to twist and hurt with no more than words, and focus on facts you can verify."

So he endured the examination in silence and wished he could wake up. He needed to void. During the examination, the only movement Sam made was the shivering. Then Razorclaw moved away from the cage. With great care Sam started to get up, but Razorclaw reached down and helped him up. Sam leaned on the hand for a moment to let his head stop spinning and let the nausea stop before attempting the few steps he needed to make.

Moving was still damned unpleasant, both from the spleen removal and from the broken ribs. He made it to the waste disposal and did what he needed to do, moving very slowly and clinging to the bars for support. Then Razorclaw picked him up. Sam's world went white, and he believed he screamed. A moment later he was lying in Razorclaw's hand, panting, trying to encompass the pain. The damned breeder managed to put pressure on both his really bad sore spots. Why couldn't he wake up?

* * *

Willie was packing again. At times he had to wipe his face; he kept starting to cry, and his face and eyes were already sore. The worst had happened; just when Sam was recovered enough to leave the infirmary. After they knew it was there, they found the computer link that must have been used to monitor his progress. The only entertainment Willie had all week was the hysterics the computer engineer had over that. Miranda finally sedated him, saying she was afraid he would have a stroke, but he suspected it was to take out her own frustrations and to shut the idiot up.

Sparkplug and Willie were with Sam that night. Bumblebee had just left to take his break. Sam was up part of the day, and went to sleep as soon as he took his evening medications. He had argued with Miranda again about his pain medications, saying the ones he was taking were giving him nightmares. Mirada told him that he was having nightmares on his own and he would not sleep at all without the medicine. As usual, Sam caved in, grumbling, and swallowed the pills.

As the next hour went by, Willie fell asleep in his chair. Sparkplug wondered why the engineer was so tired. He heard an odd sound in the hall and looked out. The medic coming for Sam's dinner tray was sprawled on the floor. Sparkplug used his internal com to contact Bumblebee and Rodimus for help and was heading for the fallen medic when the charge hit him.

Shortly afterward, Carol and some of her security came into the infirmary. Two of them fell on the floor asleep as the others stumbled back out and sent for gas masks. They blocked the exits while engineering found where the drugged air was coming from, but it was already too late. Sam was gone.

Bumblebee and Rodimus were dealing with a hit and run attack on the colony that turned out to be a drone. There was quite a bit of damage and a few injuries but no deaths. It took some time to realize that one of the ships responding never came back to the base.

Everyone told Willie that he was not to blame; any more than Sparkplug was when he was off-lined by the electromagnetic pulse. The engineer was mourning both his friend/father and the war that was starting. He was certain that Sam would die when the shard of the All-Spark and the All-Spark in him were united. He hoped that Sam would not suffer long at Megatron's hands. The colonies were mobilizing as fast as they could. They had to get to Earth before Megatron had time to plan how he was going to use the renewed complete All-Spark against them.

They were keeping the mobilization quiet. The word to the community was that they were preparing, and that the militia was training. They would only be two to three weeks behind Sam and his kidnappers. If they were very lucky, they could be most of the way there before Megatron realized they were coming.

* * *

Razorclaw regarded Sam with some worry. The only sound the escaped slave made was the shriek when Razorclaw picked him up. But with the exception of that outcry, Sam had not spoken. Now bathed and dressed in the clothes the master sent for him, Sam lay in Razorclaw's hands, completely passive. He was moving as little as possible, and what movement he made clearly hurt.

Razorclaw did not realize think that he was putting pressure on Sam's wounds when he lifted him. He had not seen a human sustain such injuries before and live. That Ratchet was able to get him healed this far was a tribute to his medical skills. Their last spy had managed to slide into a position at the infirmary with great care, side-slipping the scanning regulation by taking a menial position.

When the Decepticons read through their computer link into the infirmary that Sam was leaving the next day, they assumed he was close to being fully healed. Razorclaw knew now that even without further injury and the best of care, Sam was weeks from the full recovery needed to unite him with the shard. Worse, Razorclaw wondered if CyKill was correct and Sam was not sane anymore when faced with recapture.

Footsteps sounded, and both Sam and Razorclaw turned to see who was in the door. Dead End came in with a cup in his hand, and Razorclaw moved his hands so that Sam could sit up. Dead End wrapped Sam's hands around the cup and pushed it to his mouth. "Try it, it's not bad," he said, his voice encouraging. Sam sampled the soup, and both 'cons were relieved when he continued to sip.

Using the treatment plan for Sam in the infirmary computer, Dead End stole the medicines they would need, obtained human food enough for the trip back to Earth, and a few other odds and ends they thought might be useful. Some of the medicines were in the soup. Razorclaw felt the wounded human relax as the level in the cup went down.

Dead End reached for the cup, and Sam asked, "How did I get here?"

There was the sound of a transform, and Sam was looking at the orderly that did the housekeeping. His hair was gray and his face was lined slightly. Sam had only seen him in glimpses. "We drugged the air in the infirmary and took out Sparkplug with a magnetic pulse when he was trying to help me. Rodimus and Bumblebee were stopping a fake attack on the colony. Simple." He smiled, transformed back, and left. Razorclaw shifted Sam to look at him.

"I take it you feel better?" Sam looked more comfortable, at least.

"I think I'm on the ceiling up there somewhere," the human observed, gesturing upward vaguely. Sometime in the middle of the soup he was sipping, Sam realized that he could not be asleep, as much as he wanted to cling to that illusion. He was in a nightmare, certainly, but unfortunately it was not one that he was going to wake up from.

Strangely enough, it was feeling the effects of the drug that convinced him. He could feel them working as he was finishing the soup, and the question popped out. He was in too much of a floating haze to react to the revelation, and wondered distantly if the excessive dose of whatever trank or painkiller they were using was deliberate.

Dead End was gone and Razorclaw was about to start his own questions when Razorclaw got some kind of communication. Sam knew from the look, when the bot or 'con had that flickering to the optics. Razorclaw shifted Sam so that he lay flat, and moved to another room with a large screen. He stood Sam up, keeping a hand around him for support and safety.

Megatron appeared in the screen. That sight brought Sam crashing from the ceiling in a hurry. "Razorclaw, report," the Decepticon leader demanded before he saw Sam. Sam met the red optics and looked away, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Razorclaw did, but in Cybertronian. As the conversation went on, Sam sagged against Razorclaw's hand. Despite the drugs, his chest and abdomen began to burn. Then the familiar demanding voice jolted him back to the real world.

"Sam, look at me." Sam straightened as well as he could and looked at the screen and the face he hoped never to see again. Red optics studied him. "I want to see where you are hurt." Razorclaw opened his hand as Sam silently pulled off his shirt. "Turn." Sam did so, moving slowly and stiffly. "You fought for your freedom," he said flatly. Sam said nothing. He began to shiver. "Get dressed." Sam pulled his shirt back on.

Razorclaw put his hands around Sam again, who leaned against the offered support.

"And CyKill?" When Razorclaw began to answer, Megatron held his hand up. "Sam. Answer." Speaking for the first time, Sam explained n as few words as possible. "How appropriate. " He leaned back and regarded Sam again.

"Considering your current physical condition, I will accept that you are sufficiently punished," he pronounced. "However, as the protector of the All-Spark, I must be certain that you can no longer do harm to yourself."

Sam looked away. But Megatron would not allow him that small luxury. "Look at me," he demanded, and Sam obeyed. "Razorclaw, I command that you provide this holder of the All-Spark with all he needs to recover from his injuries. If he is not under the direct supervision of you or anyone you believe able to care for him sufficiently, he is to be restrained as needed to ensure his safety until such time as you deliver him into my hands. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Sam, you belong to me, and you hold a piece of the All-Spark. You will not be abused further. However, as you left my protection, and have defied me, you will be confined and restrained until I am satisfied that you know better. Your exile from your own kind is reinstated. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he said, glad beyond words that his mechanical voice held no inflection. His face was blank.

"Master," Megatron corrected, eyes narrowing.

Sam lowered his gaze respectfully. He hated Megatron and every Decepticon on the ship, and most of all himself. "My lord," he managed. Megatron nodded, satisfied, and the screen blanked. Sam slumped against Razorclaw's hand, eyes bright with tears he refused to shed until Razorclaw returned him to the cage and chained him down.

Mulah's last contact, made to reinforce the suggestions he planted in Sam's mind to deal with recapture if it happened, was, _We will come for you. Do what you must to stay alive and whole, or if you must die, to contact us when you come back. Bow your head, make them believe that you are broken if you must. Call him master, be a pet, stall him from feeding you to the shard by any means you can find. We will come for you. You are one of us no matter what he says._

On Earth, Megatron was pleased. He looked forward to hearing Sam call him master for the first time. Sam would not bend easily after his time with the free humans. He would accept the title 'My lord" for now, until he had Sam in his hands. Then they would see.

After all, he had Sam again. The war would not begin immediately. He had spent his time wisely while Sam was gone, preparing defenses. He had would not unite Sam with the shard until he was completely healed, and properly trained in who his master was.

Weeks later, Sam was staring out of a porthole in the recreation room. Razorclaw moved his cage there to watch him more closely. As long as he was in his cage, he was not restrained; there was nothing in it he could use to hurt himself. Outside the cage, he was chained until he was being held by one of the 'cons.

However, he spent more time being held by the cons that he did chained. Almost every crew member on the ship knew Sam from one of his lives, as Megatron believed they were more likely to believe that Sam did hold the All-Spark, and therefore not abuse him. Razorclaw set up a schedule of meals and medicines, and whoever supervised Sam's meal generally took the time to talk to him.

Some of the conversations were interesting. "Did you really have a different woman in your bed every night?" Dead End asked once.

It was the first time Razorclaw heard Sam laugh. "No," Sam said. He had eaten just about an hour earlier, and the medicines were at their best strength.

"Why do you mate if you don't want offspring?" the spy asked. Sam's cage was in the recreation room, and there were several 'cons there.

Razorclaw asked Red that once, and she said a lot of people liked sex because it felt good. Sam's answer surprised him. "Partly for pleasure," he said, "and partly to feel close to someone. Humans are very social, and we like being physically close to other humans." Forestalling a discussion on human sexuality further, he asked, "What happened to Grant?"

"CyKill's pet? He came around to see CyKill when none of us were there. I don't know how he got in, but Sideways caught him calling security. He had some fun with him before CyKill showed up and made him stop. CyKill wanted to keep him, but when Sideways got caught we had to leave in a hurry, so I put him out of his misery." At the look on Sam's face he added, "Hey, you asked."

Another time, Sam was chained and looking out of the window. Something gave the breeder the impression that Sam was depressed enough to try 'something foolish' and he had just administered a tranquillizer. Razorclaw asked him how many times he had died. Sam considered and told him. "And you just-come back?"

Sam considered. Both he and Razorclaw noticed that difficult matters were easier to discuss under the drug. "When the pain stops, then everything is blank and dark for a time, like I'm asleep, and then something pulls me back. It needs, and it calls, and I wake up, back in my teenaged body, no voice and a scar at my throat." He made a grim, humorless smile. "Rebooted, so to speak."

"Why?" Razorclaw wondered. He did not know if it was Sam's resigned attitude towards his resurrections or the proof that the All-Spark was definitely there that disturbed him more.

"I hold the All-Spark, but in two vorns the only connection I have is that moment of death. I don't know. I don't even know why I showed up where I did." Sam was lying in his teeth. He knew the All-Spark wanted to be completed; Mulah had shown him that. He was certain that when he met the shard, he would die for the final time. He would escape the war that followed, at least.

He was chained now because he asked to look out, and that was the condition Razorclaw set. Sam liked looking out at space, and he wanted to see Earth from space. From across the room, Razorclaw looked at him and nodded to himself, pleased. The bruises had faded now. Under the clothes, the stitches were fading into red scar tissue, and Sam was moving much more easily. It would be a few weeks yet, but Sam was healing well under his care.

Sam had become very quiet lately, and spent a lot of time at the porthole though he had to be in chains for it. Razorclaw was worried that he would try to suicide now that they were in sight of Earth and closer to Megatron."Treat for your thoughts," the breeder said, and Sam turned to look at him. The breeder displayed a package. Sam looked at it before looking back out of the porthole.

Razorclaw waited. He had weaned Sam back to the normal slave ration slowly, and now used what human foods were left as rewards and treats. Sam was not eating well, but he only refused to eat once. The employment of a feeding tube convinced him that using his mouth was much less painful to his throat.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the human said. "Blue and white."

So much for the non directed conversation, Razorclaw thought. "You aren't talking much lately," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"My throat hurts if I talk too much," Sam admitted. I'm going home to die, he thought. In the meantime, Megatron has to show he's got control over me, and I don't know how he's going to do that. Is that enough to make me a little down?

"Let me look," the breeder said, and held out his hand. Sam came over, the chains making a soft metallic sound as he moved. Razorclaw sent the pulse that unlocked them. He was not happy about what he found. He believed that the prosthesis was slightly displaced, and he was not sure what to do about it. He gave Sam the treat and took him to the bridge. Scrapper was there, and had one of the screens set on Earth. Sam settled into his lap without fuss. When Razorclaw glanced back, they had set up a chess game on the computer.

They were in daily contact with Earth now, and Razorclaw made his report. The communication officer put the report through to the master, per orders, and Razorclaw got a response the next day. He was not to act, and the matter would be dealt with on their return.

It was a bright sunny day when the ship landed. The crew of the ship came off, and last came Razorclaw and Dead End, carrying the cage with Sam. It was reworked so the side opened instead of the top. Looking through the bars, Sam could see Megatron standing in front, with an audience at a respectful distance. The Decepticon leader gestured, and the bars dropped. "Come," he said, and Sam walked forward.

Razorclaw had bathed him personally, chosen his clothes, and used a new set of chains. They shone in the sunlight, glinting bright against the soft black of Sam's clothes. Sam kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. "Stop," Megatron said. He moved forward and knelt, placing a collar identical to Sam's old one around his neck.

"You are mine, and you will call me master," he said, and used the control shock. When considering how he would show Sam his place without doing more damage, he decided the control shock was ideal. The first shock was mild. Since it was through the collar, the sign of ownership, the point should come across. He waited for Sam to respond.

He did not take into account that the voice prosthesis was electronic.

Sam went to his knees, head down. There was a pleased murmur from the crowd, thinking that Sam was showing proper subservience. They could not see that Sam was shuddering and choking. Suddenly he convulsed and vomited blood, before crumbling completely to the ground.

In the blood was the voice prosthesis.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Megatron snatched Sam up, contacting Razorclaw in a demand for assistance. Razorclaw examined the puddle and saw the prosthesis, taking the time to pick it up before following his master.

In the end, he and Hook, whom Megatron had also contacted, agreed that the voice prosthesis had reacted to the shock by shorting out. That induced a seizure in Sam, which in turn forced the already loosened prosthesis out of his throat, tearing delicate tissue on its way out.

Within an hour they had the bleeding stopped. Sam came to himself about halfway through the situation, and Razorclaw had to sedate him with a hoarded tranquillizer shot. Finally they were able to settle Sam into his enclosure, covered with a blanket. He fell asleep within a minute.

Razorclaw warned his master that Sam would need a lot of liquids and soft foods for some time. He had some human food from the colonies left, and some of the slave foods were soft enough, but all of them needed to be cooked. Of course, in the slave kitchens the food was cooked over gas or wooden stoves. Megatron told Hook to find a way to heat food that did not use an open flame or anything that could be used as a weapon.

He checked on a sleeping Sam several times. When Megatron found him awake, Sam was rinsing his mouth at the waste disposal and spitting the blood tinged water out. Finished, he drank. The Decepticon leader could see that it hurt him to swallow. Sam wiped his mouth, turned, and saw the 'con who claimed to be his master.

They regarded each other. For quite some time after seeing Sam on the bridge of the _Scout_, Megatron was angry when he thought of his pet far off in space, going feral again, and fighting with everything he had to stay away from his master.

His pride was stung, that his pet was able to defy him. His status hurt, because something he claimed as his own was being held by Rodimus Prime. His Decepticons were deprived of the means to be revived, a situation that cause no few disappearances. Most were from the asteroids, but some were from Earth. The deserters were not going to the Autobots, but they no longer wanted to be where a war might break out without that hope of revival.

But in the end, he missed his damned pet. He missed the safe sounding board. He missed the presence of another intelligence to interact with, that needed him. Worse, he was hurt that Sam rejected him, though he knew from the time he claimed the feral human that no matter how well he behaved with his master, Sam would revert to feral again given the chance.

His Decepticons had noticed his irritation and his tendency to lash out more frequently. Once the news that the master's human held part of the All-Spark, they backed him on getting the pet back, and believed that it was the All-Spark that attracted the master to the pet. That had soothed some of his pride.

CyKill's reports and the holographs he sent resulted in Megatron having a grudging respect for his pet's intelligence. There was no question that Sam was advising the Alliance in their dealings with him. Most, though not all, of his spies' infiltration was found and dealt with.

In addition, Sam never forgot who his master was and that Megatron never let go of what was his. As much as he fumed over the trouble Sam gave him, Megatron was proud of his pet; the Decepticon leader knew the best when he claimed it.

In the back of his processor, he hoped Sam would survive the transfer and he could keep his pet. Sam's current body was still young and he could have a few more decades of his company.

Megatron reached down and picked Sam up, gently. He pulled a blanket up with him. He put Sam in his lap, covered him with the blanket as he shivered a little, and brought over the datapad. "We are going to talk," he said. Sam wiped his mouth on the blanket, leaving a smear of blood on it.

Some time later Megatron considered what they discussed. When questioned, Sam did not deny giving the colonists all the information he had and advising them on how best to deal with the Decepticon leader who claimed him and where to look for possible infiltration.

Sam said that he knew nothing of the colony's defenses. _Rodimus is in charge of the colony defe_nses, he wrote. _I was under his protection, but that was not something we discussed. We knew I was a target, and what I did not know I could not tell. _He said with certainty that he did not sire offspring. _None of the women I slept with were fertile._ _I was afraid they would be taken when I was, and I knew that they would be used as a hostage if found out. _

"You never forgot your place, did you? Any offspring would have belonged to me as well." Megatron did give his spies instructions to bring any female pregnant by Sam back with them. "So you believe you left no offspring. But Sideways found children by you in the colony records. Did they tell you that?"

_My genetic material was used by several people who founded the second colony and they named the colony after me and my wife. That was some time ago. That material would not be viable any more. _So, Sam did not know that he had one living offspring. Megatron resolved to give orders that the offspring was to be captured alive if possible and brought to him. Should Sam die when he and the shard were united, then Megatron would have a substitute, a pet he would actively train.

At that point Megatron received a report, and approved. A drone came in with a package. He picked Sam up and took both Sam and the box into his private room.

In Megatron's private room, the box was unpacked and turned out to hold a microwave oven, without the power cord. Sam looked over the oddly shaped packages, and pointed to the glyphs; he did not want to give away that he knew how to read them. Megatron read the directions for him, and turned off the enclosure so Sam could get water. Some of the packages had human language.

After mixing the slave mush with some of the dried fruit from the colonies, Sam placed the container into the oven and punch buttons based on the pictures. Several minutes later he pulled out the mush and cooled it by adding some water.

The food had some taste thanks to the dried fruit. He ate slowly, feeling better as his stomach filled, and thinking of Willie. He missed his friends and family fiercely, but none as much as Willie. The more he knew of Willie, the better he liked him. Willie had a firm relationship with Barbara Epps, and he loved his children. He had an exasperated relationship with his mother and a devoted one to his sister and her children.

He complained once to Sam that his family was twisted. His sister was old enough to be his mother, and in fact was his primary caretaker when he was young; he was raised with his youngest nephew, who was one year older than he. His uncle did help out, as did various lovers of his mother who suspected they might be his father. He had a streak of rebel in him, leading him to choose a career in space against his formidable mother's wishes and hacking the computer to get the truth about his father.

That feeling of being odd made a real bond between him and Sam, more than their genetic relationship. That bond was further strengthened by their easy relationship with the bots. Both of them had strong ties to Bumblebee and Rodimus Prime; they understood the bots well, even better than the soldiers from the Lennox colony. Sam would do almost anything to keep Willie safe, and he hoped that Willie was not taking his friend/father's capture too hard.

If Sideways got into the computer, the Decepticons knew that Willie was his child. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Willie was on the command ship with Rodimus Prime, who would make sure he was protected.

He swallowed the last of the mixture and rose to clean the container and put it away. As he did, Megatron placed the box into the enclosure and reactivated it. "Look in the bottom," he instructed. Sam dug to the bottom and found his desktop. "Get it moving," the Decepticon leader instructed, and Sam did. Once it was up, he said, "Who do you belong to, Sam?"

Sam moved the computer to the writing program, and wrote, _On Earth, you claim me, and I cannot dispute your claim. _

Megatron studied the words. "I am the Lord Protector of the All-Spark, "he said slowly. "Soundwave believed that you might be the other part of the All-Spark. But you are human, and you are therefore a slave, and inferior." He considered. "I will be back."

Sam watched him go. Razorclaw gave Sam the impression that Megatron wanted him whole before he went to the shard. Was he changing his processor?

Sam knew that he could not call Megatron master, in voice or in print. He could not on the ship, and compromised by repeating the 'my lord' that Razorclaw used. Just now, he was going to acknowledge that on Earth Megatron was his master, and he could not. That would mean that Megatron was the master of the All-Spark, and that was not acceptable.

He went to his sleeping pad and lay down. His throat burned, and he was still sore in his chest where he had the healing broken ribs. He wished he had some kind of mild painkiller. A desperate longing for the colonies struck him, and he tried hard to control it.

Worse, he could feel the pull that had him trying to get out of his cage before again, and it was stronger. He knew what it was, now. It was the All-Spark, calling to the rest of itself. Then he vaguely felt something else, a pulling sensation. He had felt it before, but it was not pain, and he had ignored it.

Wait-while he was gone, the shard had not worked. Mulah said that he carried the power, but something else had to act as a conduit to use it. God and Primus and any deity available, he prayed, don't let Soundwave be brought back.

He tallied in his head the 'cons that had not come back, and for the first time realized that all of the ones he knew of that did not come back were ones he killed or who killed him. If Soundwave did not return, but others did, he would know.

Some time later, Megatron came and picked him up. He walked back through the office and to the hallway. There were fifteen 'cons that Sam did not know there. That meant that they were not major administrators, or he would have seen them at one time or another. Megatron spoke to them in Cybertronian, and they began to walk away. Soundwave was not one of them.

Sam, who was loosely held against Megatron's chest, turned away and tried to control himself. He knew there had been some desertion; these probably made up the difference those desertions had made. Just by being here, he had renewed fifteen Decepticons. Despair went through him in waves. He was grateful when the Decepticon leader took him back to his enclosure. "Now we know," his protector said with satisfaction, and left the room.

Sam went to his sleeping pad, pulled the blanket over him for the illusion of privacy that gave him, and cried. Lost in his pain, he did not hear Megatron come in. He started violently when he was picked up, but Megatron only put Sam against his shoulder and rubbed his back lightly. Sam gave up control.

When his pet was still except for steady breathing, Megatron picked up a blanket and went to his desk. He sat down, wrapped Sam carefully in the blanket so he would not wake, laid his sleeping charge in his lap, and got to work. He was more than satisfied; he was triumphant. He had the power to revive again, and he would have the All-Spark soon. He felt a pang of regret that he would lose Sam again, but if that was the price of that power, he would pay it.

Three weeks, he thought, and I will be able to defeat that weak Prime and begin to conquer the galaxy again.

For the next week, Sam was never out of Megatron's sight. His cage was moved next to the desk, but he spent most of his time on the desk or in the Decepticon leader's lap. When Megatron got bored with paperwork, Sam was his distraction.

There was one communication with the three Council representatives on a three-way connection. Megatron had Sam standing on the desk, chained. Sam's hands moved carefully the entire time he was on the screen, and while Megatron saw the movement, he put it down to nerves.

Sam had only two hopes left. One was that the Alliance could stop Megatron and the other that his awareness died when he was part of the All-Spark.

After the transmission, Barbara cursed. "All right, what did he say?" she asked. It hurt to see Sam bound like that, and he had not said a single word out loud.

"Megatron shocked him with the collar and the prosthesis shorted out," Rodimus said. "Megatron revived fifteen Decepticons with the shard, but Soundwave was not one of them. " Rodimus refrained from mentioning the part warning Willie. He intended to ask the engineer about that himself. "Megatron told Sam that he must be completely healed before he takes him to the shard, because he hopes Sam will survive the transfer and that now that there is proof that he holds the All-Spark, he is being well cared for. "

"Is there any chance you can get to him before Megatron tries the transfer?" she asked.

"No. The Decepticon defenses are excellent, and the chances of getting through them without alerting Earth are nonexistent. Megatron had a lot of deserters, and I think they will remain neutral until they see how this war comes out. We defeated the Fallen, and there are more ships and better firepower with us, but they are on home ground, they have Megatron, and soon they may have the All-Spark. The betting odds are even. Megatron will not have time to construct any kind of weapon with the All-Spark before we get to Earth, and that is the best that I can say."

"I see. Tell Willie I asked about him, and that his kids are fine." The Prime promised to do so, and signed off. He then contacted the _Scout. _

A week later, Megatron received a communication that sent him to space. He debated hard, finally leaving Sam in the joint care of Hook and Razorclaw. Sam's conversations with both were enlightening. Hook gave the laptop a workout, asking questions about Sam's lives and how he revived. "So what do you think will happen when you reunite with the shard?" he asked.

_I'll die for the last time. _Hook changed the subject.

Razorclaw asked him why he refused to breed_. In the colonies, because any woman bearing a child of mine would be a hostage. Here, because I won't bring a child into the Pits that life on Earth is for humans now. _

"The life of a slave is not that bad, Sam."

_I have been a slave in seven lifetimes. I think I can make a judgment on the matter. _Razorclaw was on the spy ship for months. He had a good idea of how the human colonists lived. _I got to hold a baby for the first time when I was at the colonies, and I wished I could have one of my own, but I couldn't wish my own problems on one. _

"That's scrap, and you know it," Razorclaw said flatly. "The slaves today live as well as most humans through your history, and better than more than a quarter of the world when you were young. They get enough to eat and they get clothes to wear, and they get a decent roof over their heads."

_They get no choices in their lives. They have no family, no human connection the way they need for their emotional needs. They have no chance to learn anything except their own jobs. More than half of them have abusive masters, and only a few have even the small amount of medical care you manage. Are you going to kill your charges if Megatron gives the order? _

_"_What?"

_If the Autobots appear and can't be beaten off before entering orbit, Megatron is going to order everyone to start killing the slaves._ Sam saw the order on one of the datapads in Cybertronian. _He believes it will slow the Autobots down. _Sam knew it would only enrage the forces to the point of frenzy.

Razorclaw was still for a long time. Then words appeared on Sam's screen. "No, I won't kill my babies, and I'll guard them if I need to." Then they were erased.

Sam was shocked. Then he acknowledged, _You were always a decent master_. So Mulah was right. Some of the Decepticons were capable of caring about their charges. Maybe more of the slaves would survive than he thought.

But the news from space preceded Megatron's announced return. The Autobots were already dealing with the defense systems. One ship was cornered, though not yet captured. Megatron was coming home, and Sam knew that his time was up.

Megatron looked at his pet, and wished he had more time. Sam was in his enclosure, bathed, dressed and chained. His face was blank. Megatron took down the enclosure. "If you have any ideas about making a fuss," Megatron said, "the ship that is cornered has the engineer Willie Witwicky. I hear he's your friend. I know he's your son." Megatron paused. "Behave, and I will not order it shot to pieces no matter how this merge ends."

Sam knew that the Autobots on the ship might survive the ship being opened to space but Willie would not. He bowed his head. "Good enough," the Decepticon leader said. He knelt and picked Sam up. For a time he held his pet, and wished there was another way to achieve his ambitions. Then he carried Sam out to the hall and put him down. The hall was lined with Decepticons. Sam started walking, letting the pull take him. The door ahead of him opened.

The rooms held several metal bodies and a pedestal with the shard. He could see Starscream and his trine, and Soundwave with his cassettes. When Sam was halfway in the room, his chains dropped. Megatron rushed to the door as Sam was enveloped in white lightning. When the color faded, the chip was gone. Sam turned and said, "I am complete." His voice was deep and echoing, and filled the chamber. His eyes glowed white.

Then he smiled. The Decepticons froze.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

I do not own Transformers except in my daydreams.

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts, they keep me going.

Willie was in the engine room, with the weapon he despised nearby, frantically checking his repairs. Sparkplug told him that the three ships that were blocking their escapes were all just sitting, waiting for something, and no one could figure out what. They were all staying just out of range, but when the _Scout_ tried to move too close to any of them, they fired warning shots. Willie had not questioned the pause in the fighting; he and the others were frantically repairing while they could, even knowing that should the enemy decide to attack, their chances of getting out anywhere close to alive was very small.

He had just finished checking his repairs when Sparkplug came on line. "Done yet?"

""It's as fixed as it's going to get, "Willie admitted. "I'm going to seal myself in the engine room so I can deal with whatever else comes up. Any idea yet what's going on?"

"None" the small captain admitted. "I thought we were goners when they ganged up on us. Then they just sat. So, since we have a moment, you want to tell me what it was Prime wanted to talk to you about?"

Willie wanted to crawl back into the engines and hide. Rodimus told him about seeing Sam with Megatron. "He was standing on the desk while we had the three-way connection, and he was signing most of the transmission. Megatron had no idea that he was talking."

"Sam said he never wanted Megatron to know he could communicate outside some very simple signs." Sam was actually a lot more specific. He told Willie that if Megatron ever showed the least sign of caring about Sam as a person, he would have tried harder to communicate. Instead, Megatron treated Sam like a pet-a cherished pet that he was fond of, but only a pet, therefore a possession and never an equal or even a sentient being.

"He said something once about being underestimated," Rodimus agreed. "Sam also said that a spy hacked the Population Control computer and found that he had a living child and while he is unsure what Megatron might try, he wanted you warned. Now that Megatron is aware that his 'pet' holds part of the All-Spark, Sam is being well-treated. It seems that instead of hurting Sam, he is confining him more closely."

"How? From what Sam said, he was either in a cage or with Megatron." Willie was checking his air supply. I'll need more air and some other supplies if I'm staying in here much longer, he thought.

"He was chained. His wrists were attached to his waist, restricting hand movement, and his waist was attached to a chain that hooked into the desk. He was able to sign without trouble, but he could not do much else. It was meant as a display, not with any goodwill."

Willie was quiet for a time. "He just has to keep proving to Sam that he's a pet, doesn't he?" the engineer finally said. "It's like by humiliating Sam, Megs can prove it to himself."

"Maybe so. Now tell me, when did you find out that Sam was your father?" Willie did not enjoy the rest of the conversation. In the end, Rodimus told him that he would not pursue the matter further, as the hacking was some time ago, but he hoped never to hear of such an episode again. Willie signed off feeling like a spanked child.

To Sparkplug, Willie said, "Sam said that one of the spies got into the Population Control computer and found out that Sam's genetic material was used to conceive me. He was afraid that I might be endangered and oh my god."

From the swearing on the other end of the line, the idea occurred to Sparkplug too. "You think Megatron might be using a threat to you to get Sam to do something," Sparkplug finally said.

"The All-Spark," Willie said in anguish. "Sam told Rodimus and Ratchet and me that Optimus Prime talked to him when he got the Matrix and the Prime said the All-Spark has to be united to work, that the two halves must meet to be made whole. Sam always said he would stall any way he could. They can't take a chance he'll suicide on them."

"Would he?" Sparkplug never understood how, when humans lived such short lives and were so comparatively fragile, they could take chances that might end it sooner.

"Yes. He comes back, remember? He knows Megatron will use the All-Spark against us, so he'll stall any way he can. Megatron's not stupid, he knows Sam will suicide if he gets the chance. That's why the chains, probably why they're taking care of him. They'll want him in good condition."

"We're going to move," Sparkplug said, and behind him Willie heard others talking. "It'll take a bit for us to get everything set up. Get air and water and whatever else you need and get back to the engines. I'll give you a warning."

Willie got moving, trying to focus, but one thought kept running through his head. After Sam loses the All-Spark power after holding it so long, how can he survive?

* * *

Rodimus Prime was wishing he had insisted on Willie staying with him and not going with the _Scout. _Oliver was a good engineer, but he was not Willie. Reports flowed past his screens as the other ships wove in and out of the defenses, firing and disabling as fast as they could. So far the _Primal_ was damaged in three areas, none of them crucial but affecting performance and the repairs were not happening fast enough.

"Ironhide, pick a team and clean up some of those smaller satellites. Get the information on which from Blaster." More than once the Prime blessed his luck that Soundwave was never revived; so far there were no totaled ships. With Soundwave the damages would have been tripled. He wondered how much time they had before Megatron fed Sam to the shard.

* * *

Across Earth, the supervisors everywhere were on edge. The instructions were clear. The defenses were under attack. Any soldier not working with humans or some work that was essential to defense was deployed; about half the ones working with humans were released and sent to be deployed. The rest had strict orders to keep the humans confined to close areas and await orders.

Shrapnel went over his lists again. It was raining hard. The slaves did not wonder at why they were in the barns and barracks, doing a lot of cleaning and repair work that they often did at such times. When he was required to choose who would go to the front lines, he chose the supervisors he thought were most likely to follow the order not yet given but that rumors said was pending-kill the slaves.

When Razorclaw came over with that information, Shrapnel was sure that it was so much scrap-until the breeder said who told him. Sam-who was Mute when they knew him- got it from the master. He understood now why Razorclaw came over in the dead of night and talked some scrap about visiting the site of the old still.

When he got the assignment to go to space, he was completely floored. When he arrived at the spaceport, he almost glitched when he saw Razorclaw. There was a supervisor from a factory, and two from the construction assignments. The lecture they got from Megatron was threw his processor into more confusion.

Oh, everyone had heard about the feral human, and how the Master was keeping him, carried him almost everywhere, and treated him like something precious. Shrapnel shrugged it off; he knew all of them got fond of a human every once in a while. They got over it when they lost the human, the way he lost Mute. The Master showed a hologram of his pet, and Shrapnel was surprised to find that he did look like Mute.

It turned out that everyone knew the hologram as some slave they knew and liked at some time. Like the others, he started getting uneasy. He knew that there could not be that many white-haired mute male slaves, all about the same age as Mute was when he was with Shrapnel and then Razorclaw. To find out that Mute-or Noisy, or White, or Quiet- was the same person as the master's pet, rebooted due to carrying a piece of the All-Spark, was enough to send several of them into an emergency reboot, Shrapnel included.

They were sent to capture him back from the human colonies. They all knew him in various situations, they had all treated him well while he was in their care, and all of them had proof that he was indeed too similar to the human they once knew and understood that he did hold part of the All-Spark. For that reason, he had to be retaken, he was not to be killed, and he was to be treated well once he was taken.

If the Autobots had not killed CyKill for what he did to Sam, Shrapnel would have. Even after two weeks of healing, poor Sam/Mute was still covered in marks from his frantic struggle to keep his freedom. Worse, now that he could talk, they all found he was much more intelligent and educated than any of them had guessed.

From watching the colonists, all of them saw that humans were perfectly capable of governing themselves, and given opportunity, took care of themselves quite well. The belief that humans needed to be cared for was one big fat lie. He tried to shrug that off. They were still small, soft, and inferior.

Shrapnel looked over at the barracks where the majority of the slaves slept. He got the males just getting into their maturity, and generally they stayed until they were in the beginning of their second decade. Oh, they were trouble, of course, always getting into fights, stealing food, playing tricks on each other and sometimes a supervisor if they thought they could get away with it. They had to be trained in all the jobs. But they were young, and so very defenseless.

He made his decision then, and all of the supervisors with him concurred. They would not kill their charges; they would do their best to keep them alive until this matter settled out in one way or another. Killing Autobots and armed Alliance humans was one thing. Killing their own was another.

Razorclaw went from breeding farm to breeding farm, and gave his orders. The children were to be kept in the most protected areas, and tended by the pregnant females. The males were sent to the outer rooms, and the supervisors were to keep an optic out for any activity. No one was going to kill his females or the young children. He would protect them all if he could. In this he was lucky. The supervisors here tended to see the young human children as sparklings, and the ones who might have followed the order were sent to the front lines. They could fight Alliance humans and Autobots but they were not going to kill their humans.

In factories all over Earth, on farms all over Earth, there were others who made the same decisions. Scrapper and a few other supervisors gathered all of the slaves they ever worked with, gathered all the food he or they could find, and melted into the wilderness. Several supervisors at factories scouted out safe spots for their workers, and passed the word to them that when ordered, to go there. They were areas one supervisor could stand in front of and defend. Some of the supervisors at the mines passed the word to what slaves they could. Bonecrusher was one the first called to the front lines, but he left orders, and those supervisors knew they were not likely to survive the insubordination.

And they all waited.

* * *

The day started with Sam numb. Megatron must have put something in his last meal, Sam thought as he bathed and dressed. The Decepticon leader brought him a bowl of warm water to bath in. The clothes were new, as were the chains- appropriate for a sacrifice.

Until Megatron informed him that he was holding Willie hostage, Sam was not going to cooperate. If his 'protector' was going to force the meld onto him, let him put some effort into it; Sam was not going to just walk to his death. But that threat resigned him to the inevitable. Megatron picked him up and held him for a time.

When Megatron put him down, Sam did not look back as he walked away. He felt the pull more strongly than he ever had, and this time he let it take him. The door at the end of the hallway opened, and he did not have to make it to the shard. It came to him.

Like his trip to visit the Primes, he was elsewhere, not in body, but in mind. It was much like communicating with Mullah by touch, except this presence radiated light and warmth. He very much got the impression of 'took you long enough.' To his surprise, instead of power being taken from him, the shard was coming into him. As it did so, the separation between them ended and the All-Spark personality absorbed information from Sam as he did from it.

The All-Spark was displeased, that was clear. Okay, Sam revised as the exchange went on. To put it bluntly, the All-Spark was royally pissed.

For most of Sam's lives, it simply existed in him, trying to grow in strength. Considering that it had not been used for thousands of years except in Sector Seven experiments, the power had built. Otherwise, the power that destroyed Optimus Prime, and the sundering, would normally have taken another thousand years to regenerate. Despite the shard being drained periodically and power being used to regenerate Sam, the power of the All-Spark part in Sam had recovered by his last revival.

It had been seeking the Lord Protector in the absence of a Prime, in addition to seeking its other part. Finding the Lord Protector, it did its best to reach to him, and found it could not get past his Pits-damned ego. Sam understood now that Megatron did sense the All-Spark in him, and this faint stirring of his oath-binding did nudge him to protect Sam. The All-Spark assured Sam that some of Megatron's attachment to him was genuine.

Unfortunately, both the binding of the Decepticon leader's oath and his ability to care for anyone at all was skewed by his megalomania, his prejudice against other sentient races and his twisted ambition. The All-Spark tested any being trying to touch Sam's mind by throwing up the painful memories; Soundwave could not endure them because he did not have Sam- and therefore the All-Spark's- best interests in mind. Mulah did, and he got through.

When its efforts to get through to the Prime worked, the All-Spark was willing to wait; Rodimus was willing to protect Sam, and therefore the All-Spark in him while working toward the goal of reuniting it with its other part. At the same time, the contact with Mulah awakened it further. When Sam was returned to Megatron, the All-Spark knew that the Lord Protector understood the All-Spark resided in Sam.

Instead of respecting Sam as the holder of the All-Spark and treating him accordingly, Megatron insisted that Sam submit to him, even knowing that Sam was the All-Spark's host. Despite being fond of Sam, as a pet if nothing else, the Decepticon leader was still willing to sacrifice Sam, unwilling, to get the All-Spark. He was then going to use the All-Spark as a weapon against the Prime and his forces.

The All-Spark was life giving. It was meant to give sparks begin new lives, was to be used to defend the weak and build to make life better for its children. This was its purpose, given from Primus. It was never meant to be a weapon, never meant to be used to subdue and conquer. Normally it would not feel emotions, but it informed Sam that being attached to him gave it a new perspective. Not one that would last; it had every intention of remaking a Cube at some point. However, it owed Sam, and it owed the human race. It offered Sam a bargain, and he accepted with no hesitation.

So it was that the All-Spark, using Sam's body as more than simply a host for the first time, turned to the Lord Protector who failed it, and smiled.

The merge reached out. Any Cybertronian willing to kill unarmed humans was put into deep stasis. Megatron was the first to freeze. Then the Decepticons in the hall began to fall like bowling pins, and the merge cursed in four different languages as it crawled over the stilled bodies on to get out.

"So much for dignity," they grumbled. "At least no one will ever know."

* * *

Yes, there will be an epilogue, saying what will happen to Megatron and to the Decepticons who both did and did not go into stasis. HOWEVER- if you have ideas, I would like them, as the one I have is a little shaky. You can provide said opinions through reviews or private messages. I will read all of them, though I may or may not use any.


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

I do not own Transformers (I wish!).

Thanks to Cliffjumpersfangirl and nessus for some of the ideas in this last chapter. Thanks to everyone who read(s) this and reviewed (or reviews), it's been a wild ride and I've enjoyed every minute of it. Reviews are still appreciated!

In space, Willie strapped into his restraints, the ones that could be removed if he needed, and told Sparkplug he was ready. Sparkplug said, "Here goes, then." He had let the ship drift as close as one of the enemy ships would let it. Willie felt the ship's engines roar as Sparkplug made his move- and they were clear, that quick. There was one shot after them, almost as an afterthought. Sparkplug hauled to meet up with the rest of the fleet, sending a report as he went.

Rodimus Prime noticed the decrease in shots and maneuvers from the enemy ships when they finished off one. Reports flew in, bewildered and nervous and feverishly hopeful, that most of the manned ships were disengaging. They chased them down to discover that most of the 'cons on the ships were in stasis lock. The defenses were quickly dealt with, and they sped on to their chose landing places, both terrified and hopeful. Was this a trap or something else?

On Earth, calls went back and forth, from farm to farm and factory to factory, to the mines and to the centers. They could see ships landing, but there was no firing, no fighting. Some of their personnel were in deep stasis lock and could not be revived. What was going on?

Razorclaw, on his central farm, got call after call. He said the same thing, over and over. "Wait, see what happens. Don't engage. If you're attacked, defend and call for help." Shrapnel got messages from other farms, that something was wrong with the other supervisors and there were ships, what should they do? He instructed them to have the humans in a safe place, barn or barracks, do not engage unless fired on, ask for help if fired on, and wait.

At the mines, one of the protective supervisors saw a ship coming down and sent the word. Miners were quietly herded into the smaller shafts, as they waited for the shouts and the shots to start. When as many as they could get word to were huddled in the shaft, they ventured out. Fellow supervisors, the ones that would have followed the 'kill the humans' order, were frozen, and when checked, found to be in deep stasis that they could not bring them out of.

Then each of them got a personal communication. When the Alliance soldiers arrived, more than half of the remaining Decepticons surrendered, terrified and/or awed out of their processors because they heard the All-Spark. The remainder fought, but most of them did not fight well, too unsettled by that voice in their minds. When the Autobots questioned the supervisors and the Alliance humans questioned the slaves, they discovered that the supervisors not in stasis lock were the ones who would not slaughter their personal charges, and the slaves often said that the supervisors left were the ones they trusted more.

Rodimus himself went after central command, determined to find Sam or what remained of him. The Alliance forces found themselves helping drones move bodies in stasis out of the way so they could walk in the halls. They found Sam in Megatron's quarters. He was poking through the datapads, gathering information, and when they came in the room, moving in careful military fashion, his greeting was, "Took you long enough."

They noticed the glowing eyes and the echoing voice and any irritation went away. When they saw Megatron in the pile of stasis-locked bodies, they were shocked until an irritated bark of "Come on, we need to get them out of the way," galvanized them into moving.

The Autbots, assisted by the humans, made certain that the Decepticons were in stasis lock, and all weapons were removed or off-lined, and literally stacked them up to get them out of the way. There were few Decepticons left and most of them fled. Rodimus sent troops after them and used Megatron's communications center to send out both offers of clemency for surrendering and messages to his own people.

By the time Willie appeared, Sam was back to being in charge of the merge. Between the slow takeover and the presence of the Prime, the All-Spark personality felt safe enough to fade back. Fortunately Sam was alone in the office when Willie ran up and hugged him hard. Rodimus and Sparkplug discreetly gave the father and son a little time.

However, Willie was uneasy on the planet and went back to the spaceport to work on the ships after seeing that Sam was safe. He visited occasionally and brought Sam food from stores until cooks and a new food distribution system made that effort unnecessary. After that, Sam visited him and lured him out of the ship to show him Earth and its wonders, teaching him that all the messy disorder that a planet held was worth what you could find on it.

Sam, Rodimus, Alex Lennox and Mulah spent a great deal of time working over what needed to be done and what was available to get it done. As each area was settled, there would be both a human and an Autobot left behind to deal with the slaves and the supervisors and make evaluations.

There was only one good outcome to the death of most of the human race, Sam thought. Resources scare for seven billion people were widely available to the few million left, and there was no problem anymore with distributing them. That meant there was means to bring skilled personnel and other needs to Earth to begin medical care and to restructure a slave society into a free one. It would not be easy, but at least they would not have to mortgage their children's futures to pay for the help they needed.

Miranda came with the next ship, bringing with her other medics and a few Psyches. She had a great deal to say about the lack of medical care on Earth, with her top priority improving diet. Strangely enough, her irritated attitude put a lot of the slaves at ease. They were used to that attitude in anyone in authority, and encountering it reassured them that she knew what she was doing. Of all people, she got along best with Razorclaw, who was fascinated with the fact that humans actually had codes called DNA and how the affected interbreeding.

While he was no longer in charge of 'breeding', he was interested in how the colonists kept from interbreeding. When he offered his records, he was offered in turn the choice to be part of the new Population Control that would be installed on Earth, modified like the one on Waterfall.

Sam would forever treasure the day that Razorclaw came up to him while he was walking his baby girl and said,"You finally got around to it?"

"I was born free and now my children are," Sam told him evenly."It was worth the wait."

Razorclaw was one of the first to agree to the new rules in order to stay on Earth. That choice was offered to the Decepticons who surrendered, to accept the Alliance rules and stay to work with their former charges. They would be considered neutral. All of the supervisors Sam worked well with agreed.

Those that did not want to stay on Earth under the new rules but did want the option of remaining in Alliance space had to swear to keep to Alliance law and not to render aid to those who remained Decepticons. Again, they would be considered neutral. The oaths were witnessed and reinforced by the merge.

Among the supervisors not in stasis, some were unable to give up the Decepticon point of view; they were exiled out of Alliance space, and the merge reprogrammed them so that they would not return unless willing to comply with Alliance rules. The ones in stasis lock were left that way until they could be tried and either condemned or exiled.

Months later, the trials began. Megatron and a few others did not get a trial because it was universally agreed that he did not need one. He was the leader of the Decepticons forces and second in command to the Fallen, and he was condemned by the Alliance for war crimes already, as were five other Decepticons. Sam was delighted to find that Bonecrusher was one of them.

The means of giving the others a trial was discussed along with a means to execute the ones condemned. When the meeting ended, the merge went to see Megatron. "Are you here to gloat?" Megatron was able to speak but the rest of his movement was still forcibly off-lined.

"No." The merge was currently Sam. "I came to tell you your sentence." Megatron only cursed. Sam waited until he ran down. "You're to be executed and your body will be reduced to component parts. The deaths you caused end here."

"Executed by insects," the former Lord Protector said bitterly, "slowly?" Sam remembered the executions of his fellow resistance fighters. Megatron had reason to ask.

"We won't lower ourselves to your level," Sam said. Megatron flinched as the merge walked up and caused his spark chamber to open. "Besides, you were kind to me." His eyes began to glow. "And you were once the Lord Protector in fact and not in name, before the Fallen corrupted you. So this will be quick." He reached.

Some time later Carol and Willie found Sam in the woods near base. The lights were strong enough that they could see him picking apples from a nearby tree. There were already some roots in the basket he was using. Sam had the habit of finding wild foods and bringing them to the base for the cooks to try. There were leaves in the basket as well.

"There you are," Willie said, relieved. He squinted in the dimness. "Why are you out here in the dark? What are those?" When a breeze blew in, rustling the leaves, he jumped and shivered a little.

"When you slipped away, you got us a little worried," Carol said. She came over and looked at the bucket. "What's this?"

"Apples, carrots, and spearmint leaves. I needed to think, "he said. He picked a few more apples. "Thinking about how life needs to move on, sometimes, and start again." He put the apples in the bucket and stood. "You know, back when I was young, this world was covered with people. We were smothering the planet and trying to keep from killing each other. We had cultures who tried to turn the clock back with hate and killing; we had countries that were rich and those that were desperately poor. We had cities with multiple of millions of people living on top of each other. We had all kind of pollution. "He lifted his head to the breeze and took a deep breath. "And in less than a century, it was gone, because of Megatron and the Decepticons. All human culture was obliterated. There is no longer even a tradition left."

The two colonists waited. "The odd thing is, we have a chance to not make those mistakes again. We'll have a chance at rebirth. No rich and no poor, no strangling cultures backlashes, no one to say something is right or wrong because that was the way they were taught to think and there's no better reason."

The two younger people said nothing, wondering what caused the musing. Sam picked up the bucket. They walked inside with him, relieved to come in from the dark. Rodimus Prime was waiting. "We just discovered that Megatron's permanently off-lined," the Prime stated.

"Yes," Sam said.

"You knew?" Rodimus said.

"I took care of it." Sam continued to carry his bucket to the kitchen. Willie and Carol were staring at him. The biggest danger to the Alliance, the murderer of how many humans, Psyches, and Autobots, and he just 'took care' of him, without any noise, without any preparation, nothing?

"That was something of a presumption on your part, Sam," Rodimus said, his voice carefully neutral.

Sam's eyes began to glow. "No," he said. "I did what was necessary. With him gone, the ones wavering will fall in line, and the rest will be afraid. Megatron was already condemned. He was once my Protector, and I have dealt with him as he needed to be dealt with. As the All-Spark, I have always had the right to take back a spark, and I have done so."

"Take the spark?" Willie squeaked. "What do you mean?"

"Take the spark back into me," the merge answered. "To be reborn again, to try again. He was once a good being. Always ambitious, always arrogant, but strong, and once he lived up to his title. So, eventually in time, it will come to pass. In the meantime, use his body for spare parts, and I will use the rest later."

With that, the glow was gone. "Now, Willie and Carol, would you like to try mint tea? It's really good with some sweetening."

Fifty years later…..

"It's time," Sam said to Rodimus Prime and Bumblebee.

Prime and Bumblebee came to Earth on a more or less routine visit to report Earth's situation to the Alliance Council. They met Sam at the old command center. It was still the government center, but in the middle of a thriving city.

In the fifty years that had passed, Sam formed a bonded relationship to Carol Lennox, who stayed on Earth to organize and run security matters. Carol died of totally natural causes five years ago. They had adult daughters with children and careers of their own. However, anyone who knew Sam over more than a few years knew he was still different; he did not age at all. He looked the same now as he had when they found him in Megatron's quarters the day they arrived, except the white line around his neck had faded away.

"When?" Bumblebee asked.

Of course, there had been problems, and there were still problems, but matters were stable for now. A new world leader was chosen, a young man named Cole who once worked at the energon plant and went to the colony world to study before working under Sam. The vast majority of the Decepticons who were in stasis were exiled from Alliance space and reprogrammed to never return. Most left that part of the galaxy.

Those that stayed had to live through changes. They watched as the collars came off. They had to deal with humans who worked in shifts and who rose to responsible positions. They helped organize the building of homes and arrangements for families. They had to get used to required medical care.

"Tomorrow. No need to put it off further. From what Ratchet says, they've taken all the parts they can use. There's enough left for my needs. I'd like you to be my witnesses. Willie's already agreed, and so has Mulah."

"Tomorrow, then. "

The next day Sam stood in front of the remains of the condemned Decepticons, those from the ones locked in stasis and condemned thirty years ago. The witnesses could feel power in the air, rising like heat from metal or concrete on a shimmering hot summer day. The pieces of metal began to melt and merge into each other, as white lightning danced into it, coming from Sam.

Soon, a cube shape emerged in the light. Then Sam's body became tranluscent, and with one last swirl, dissolved into the light and went into the new Cube, which then settled gently onto the ground.

The bargain the All-Spark offered Sam was time and assistance to rebuild Earth and to live a settled human life. In return, Sam agreed to become part of the All-Spark, with his memories of pain and enslavement and human history forever entrenched into the rest of the information in the Cube.

And so, in the vorns to come, when Cybertron was alive and growing once again, Sam, as part of the Cube, was there to advise and remind those in power the cost of one being's ambition.

Author's note: If you are interested in reading or have ideas for Sam's lives that I did not address (two which were not specific except in how he dies) let me know; also if you have ideas for same. This would be published as additional stories.


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